The Night of the Lost Pirate Ship
by Andamogirl
Summary: James West's and Artemus Gordon's new adventures in the bayous of Louisiana searching for a lost French frigate, her cargo hold filled with gold.
1. Teaser

**THE NIGHT OF THE LOST PIRATE SHIP**

 **By Andamogirl**

Author's note: season 2. This story takes place after TNOT Golden Cobra.

References to the following episodes: TNOT Murderous Spring; TNOT Golden Cobra

References to my story TNOT Comanche Moon.

Warning: nightmare with major characters death & suicide. Graphic violence.

 _Singh_ _ **:**_ _Oh, come come come, Mr. West. Surely you must be aware that your reputation has preceded you.  
_ _Jim_ _: Has it? What is my reputation?  
_ _Singh_ _: Oh, an admirable one. You have a talent-I might almost say a genius-for survival.  
_ _Jim_ _: Oh, you flatter me, Mr. Singh. But survival embraces so many areas. And many so dull.  
_ _Singh_ _: Quite true, quite true. Begging for mercy, hiding, running away. None of which my boys are interested in. Which effectively narrows it down to the one area in which they are interested. The gentle art of killing._

Jim: Whatever you do, don't go in there. There's a tiger in there.  
Artie: Awww… _(opens door)_ There's a tiger in there!  
Jim: Nooo…

TNOT Golden Cobra

Many thanks to my beta reader Tripidydoodah.

WWW

 **TEASER**

 _Artemus's nightmare:_

ROARRRRR.

Hearing that, Artemus Gordon landed the young leopard to the carpeted floor, his hair sticking to the nape of his neck. The mini-feline jumped on the sofa. It immediately attacked one of the pillows, attacking and tearing the golden fabric, sending goose feathers flying everywhere.

"Jim! JIIIMMM!"

Leaving the galley, holding a saucer of milk, James West asked, "What?"

Pointing with a trembling finger at the adult leopard looking at them, Artie said, "The mama was in the box too," he said. His pulse was racing.

The mama leopard bared its teeth, let out another rough rumbling roar and Artie added, "There's a box filled with knock-out gas mini-bombs on my desk, in my lab, bring one or two here – before mama leopard here decide to maul me and eat my entrails."

The leopard roared again, louder, spotted fur on end and light blue eyes flashing menacingly. It raised a clawed paw, ready to lash out.

Moving to the sideboard in a flash, Jim grabbed the revolver hidden under the revolving table-top and aimed at the snarling mama leopard.

Doing his best to stay calm, Artie said, "No! No! Don't kill it – don't kill her. I want to give the leopards to the Washington zoo. Bring the bombs here … and hurry!" He grabbed a chair, the legs facing the animal to keep it at bay – and Jim rushed into the narrow walkway, heading toward the lab.

The leopard pounced at the human standing in front of him. He pawed the chair easily, sending it flying in the air to the side and then, it lunged on a terrified Artemus, bringing its claws out, and bit into the man's shoulders with his long, sharp, fangs, hard and deep.

Blood splashed.

In the walkway Jim heard Artie scream in pain and accelerated.

He came back shortly after, finding the leopard lying on top of Artemus sprawled on his back, unconscious. "Dear God!" He breathed, filled with fear.

He was ready to throw the knock-out gas mini bombs to the floor, so they would explode on impact and release a cloud of red smoke… when he noticed that the feline was inert. He slid the mini-spheres into pants pocket and grabbed the gun he had left on the table. He poked the leopard with his feet. It didn't react. He did it again. Still no reaction.

It looked dead.

Still pointing the Colt at the unmoving leopard, Jim pushed it away from Artie's prone body. The leopard rolled limply on the floor. It really was dead.

Kneeling beside Artemus, Jim took his partner's pulse. It was a bit rapid, but strong. Artie's emerald green smoking jacket had been slashed, no; shredded, and was ancient history, he won't like that, he thought. He opened it to reveal a blood stained white shirt, slashed too, like the skin beneath. "Stay here buddy, everything's going to be okay."

He placed his gun on the sofa. Then, first things first, he put the young leopard - sniffing at Arties blood-soaked-jacket, growling - back in in the big wooden box and locked the wired door.

Then he opened the lower part of the side board and pulled out the first aid kit. Kneeling again beside his injured and unconscious partner, he pulled out scissors from the box and began to cut Artie's ruined jacket and shirt, exposing his bloodied upper body.

He poured disinfectant over the angry red deep cuts the leopard had left on Artie's shoulders and chest… and gasped in total surprise, as they…suddenly vanished! He blinked twice. "What?" he let out, stunned, watching the injuries on his right arm vanish in their turn.

He touched Artie's skin to be sure… only the drying blood remained – all the deep cuts had vanished as if by magic.

Magic and India come together.

Following his instinct, he took the letter from Veda Singh and read it up to the end and read the last sentence twice, then aloud, "Don't let the female leopard bite someone, she will die and the curse will continue. I will tell you more about that when I return in the United States, next month." He looked down at Artemus, unconscious and intact, again. "The curse will continue…" Looking down at the dead leopard, he had a start when a sudden flash of bright golden light enveloped the dead leopard… and he gasped in total surprise… when a naked woman materialized on the carpeted floor, where the leopard had been.

Eyes wide open, she was dead.

Jim jumped when he heard a thundering ROARRRRR – and slowly turned around.

More than astounded, he froze and then he took a couple of steps back, swallowing. A big black panther, its fur sleek and shiny, its fangs bared, wrapped in fading sparks of golden light was padding toward him. "Artie?" he croaked.

The panther snarled threateningly, with its ears laid back on his skull, and tail waving behind it, stalking toward him. Closer and closer.

Jim took a step back, swallowing nervously. "Good kitty-Artie…"

WWW

 _The reality:_

The bell of the Wanderer announcing the arrival in a railway station woke Artemus with a start and he looked around him, lost, confused and disoriented, images of his very bad dream still present in his mind… and he grimaced in pain.

He looked down at his bandaged right arm and everything came back to his mind: the young leopard wasn't alone in the box.

His mama was there too.

She had jumped on him before he could do anything and she had slashed his right arm with her claws… that was before Jim had the good idea to put the young leopard back in the box and she had followed to take care of her offspring.

Then he had passed out.

Artemus rubbed his temples tiredly. "What an awful dream!"

He sat up in his bunk, feeling the train slowing down, and ran a trembling hand through his messy hair. They had reached New Orleans, he realized.

He stood, feeling the train stop, and put his robe on, gingerly, wincing. Feeling dizzy, he sat on his bunk and waited for the room to stop spinning.

There was a knock at the door and it opened shortly after. "Artie, are you awake buddy?" Jim asked, entering the room.

Marmalade jumped on the bunk and padded toward her master, purring, and began to lick his hand. Artemus pulled the cat against his bare chest and the cat nuzzled his neck. "Yes, I am. Hello Marmie."

Smiling, Jim sat on the edge of the bunk, beside his partner, and Marmie just lolled on her back so Artie could rub her belly. He complied immediately.

Petting the cat's soft fur between its pointy ears, Jim said, "Fortunately, Marmie's not going to maul you. How are you?"

Artie smiled too. "I'm fine…," he lied. He was still dizzy, but he didn't want Jim to be worried. "What happened with the leopard triggered an awful dream… the leopard bit me and thanks to a curse, I became a black leopard, a black panther… By the way, where are they?"

Sitting on the edge of the bunk, Jim replied, "I placed the box with the leopards in the baggage car. It's just next to the stable and the horses are nervous."

Artemus rubbed his nose playfully against the cat's tiny one and Marmalade meowed. "That's a good cat… and far less dangerous than a leopard."

Jim nodded. "Fortunately, yes. I'm sorry to disturb you, buddy, but we have a visitor. There's no time to lose, come with me."

Holding a purring Marmie in his arms, Artie followed Jim down the narrow walkway and they entered the parlor car shortly after.

Mrs. Julia Rutherford was standing in the middle of the parlor car, two bodyguards framing her. She was holding a letter in her hand, and looked worried, agitated.

Blushing in embarrassment, Artemus glared at his partner. "You could have told me who our visitor, was, Jim!" he whispered. "It's a woman! And it's the Governor's wife."

Jim smiled innocently. "I didn't? I completely forgot, I'm sorry, Artemus." Then he chuckled inwardly. He loved to tease his partner. Of course Artie would retaliate, but it was the game, and it was so much fun to embarrass Artie, that it was worth it, he thought.

His brow furrowed, Artemus narrowed his eyes. He wasn't fooled. 'No coffee for you for a week', he mouthed to Jim. He dropped Marmalade on the closest sofa, the cat curling up on a pillow there, tail curled around itself. He ran a hand through his wild black curls before closing his robe with the belt. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Rutherford," he said, blushing, embarrassed. "Give me five minutes, and I promise you to come back dressed decently to receive you."

Mrs. Rutherford smiled soothingly, "Don't worry about that, Mr. Gordon. I don't mind. Mr. West told me what happened to you, and I'm the one who is sorry to disturb you, when you should rest to recover your strength. But I wanted to talk to you as soon as possible. It's very important – and private." She looked up at the two men framing her, each in turn, and added, "Wait for me outside, I'm safe here."

The two mountain-build men nodded, said, "Yes Mrs. Rutherford," in a chorus and left the room, to halt then on the rear platform of the Wanderer.

Smiling, Jim gestured toward the sofa. "Please," he said watching the petite brunette woman take her place in the golden upholstered sofa. "Do you want a cup of coffee, Mrs. Rutherford? Tea perhaps? And cakes, Artie made delicious blueberry muffins…"

Julia smiled. "No, nothing, thank you, Mr. West. I'm so nervous my stomach is knotted, I can't eat or drink anything since I received that letter."

Sitting on a chair in front of the Governor's wife, Jim asked her, "Tell us what brought you here Mrs. Rutherford…and about that letter."

Julia Rutherford blushed a little. "Franklin, my husband knows I'm here, of course, but he doesn't know why. I told him I wanted to invite you personally to the reception I am organizing at our house for Christmas… but it's an excuse. Oh, but you are invited, of course. It's the first time I'm hiding something to Franklin. I feel… ill at ease, guilty. If I came here to see you… A courier brought me that letter yesterday…" and she handed it over to Jim. "It's a ransom demand. Eli… I mean Elizabeth Deerly, my best friend, living here in New Orleans has been kidnapped, and the people who did that want 10,000 dollars tomorrow evening in exchange. The person who wrote the letter specified that nobody but me and the man or the men who will bring the money to the rendezvous must know about the kidnapping – my husband included -; otherwise Eli will be killed immediately. When my husband told me that you would be here today, and would stay for a week to be at the President's side, I decided to come and ask you for help. There is a plan with the place of the rendezvous on the back of the letter."

Jim read the letter rapidly then gave it to Artie standing beside him. "Artemus and I will help you with great pleasure, Mrs. Rutherford. We have 24 hours before President Grant arrives."

Mrs. Rutherford continued, "I have the money…" she pointed at a black bag sitting next to the door. "Do you want to bring it to them, Mr. West?"

Jim nodded. "Of course, and I will bring Mrs. Deerly here, safe and sound after that, Mrs. Rutherford" He saw Julia Grant smile, reassured.

Mrs. Grant stood, "I'm counting on you, Mr. West and you Mr. Gordon and please, don't tell anything about this to my husband." She headed toward the door. "When everything is settled, send a courier with a letter telling me that you are "delighted to be invited to the White House reception for Christmas ", and I will know immediately that everything went well." She smiled. "Thank you, gentlemen."

Once Mrs. Rutherford was gone, Artemus took the bag and placed it on the writing table. He opened it, pulling out a bundle of banknotes. "Do you have a plan?"

Jim shook his head. "Not yet… you?" He looked at his partner and caught Artemus's 'I've got a brilliant idea' glint in his partner's eyes. "But you have."

Artemus rubbed his stubbled chin pensively. "It's just an idea… but I'm sure it will work. But it's going to be tricky to set up."

Jim smiled. "I have every confidence in you, Artie."

Artie bowed his head. "Thanks." He scowled and added, "You will drink your own coffee for a week, Jim." Then he padded toward the galley.

Tbc.


	2. Act One

**THE NIGHT OF THE LOST PIRATE SHIP**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT ONE**

 _The next evening, near the Mississippi River_

 _At sunset_

The kidnappers had chosen the place of the exchange well, Jim thought as he dismounted his black horse, and then looked around him. They were sure not to be watched then not to be intercepted by the sheriff and his men, because that part of the bank of the Mississippi River was flat, treeless, and open and the forest was far away, he added in his mind.

He took the black bag attached to the pommel of his saddle and looked around him. No one was in sight. He pulled his watch out of his waistcoat pocket. He was five minutes ahead of time.

He glanced at the river, hearing the frogs croak and the bugs chirping in the tall grass and saw weeds obscuring most of the view of the water… its calm surface glittering shades of orange and red with the setting sun. He smiled and whispered, "I hope you're not too cold buddy…"

They were 10 minutes late. It was twilight and the sky darkened, revealing millions of stars. The full moon shone brightly.

He did not have to wait very long, shortly after a buckboard, lit by two lanterns, appeared on the road in the distance, with three men inside.

Placing the bag at his feet, Jim rested his hand on the handle of his Colt – watching the kidnappers move toward him.

He frowned, puzzled. Where was Mrs. Deerly?

The buckboard halted next to Jim, a couple of minutes later, and two men, standing in the rear part of the four-wheeled-wagon, each immediately aimed a Winchester 73 at the secret agent.

A living picture of calm, Jim asked, "Where's Mrs. Deerly? No Mrs. Deerly, no money, that's simple," and saw the two men smirk.

The red-haired man seated on the seat, smiled and said, "Mrs. Deerly should be back home now. We detained her for just the time needed to be sure you would come here tonight."

Jim snapped his fingers. "I've got it! I'm the one you wanted to kidnap. It was a trap." He nodded in appreciation and added, "It's a very elaborate plan… Who's giving you orders? You're obviously not smart enough to have planned that yourselves."

The two men standing on the platform of the buckboard exchanged an angry look – and it was just what Jim expected. One second of distraction.

In a flash he un-holstered his gun and fired. The two goons collapsed on the platform of the wagon, a bullet in the shoulder of each.

He glanced at the river – hoping that Artie got the signal. He had to fire twice in the air, as agreed, but firing at two men who threatened him, was much better, he thought.

Pointing his revolver at the driver, he quickly divested the two injured henchmen of their rifles and revolvers, throwing them from the bank of the Mississippi into the water, and then he moved back, looking at the driver. "Don't try anything…"

But the driver pulled out a gun from his belt and aimed at Jim, ready to fire… and dropped it with a cry, his hand hit by a bullet.

He was very surprised to see a man dressed in short underwear coming out of the river, a black mask covering half of his face, holding a gun. "What the hell…" he trailed off.

Jim smiled. "A fitting expression. My partner can be the devil himself, when he wants to." He glanced at his companion who was removing the breathing mask, he had modified after Mrs. Rutherford's visit that morning. Wide rubber bands fixed the mask on the face now and he knew that Artie had increased the oxygen capacity of the reservoir. He noticed too that he had tied a belt around his waist, holding pieces of lead to act as ballast, so that he could stay at the bottom of the water. "Water cold enough Artie? You're shivering, buddy. By the way, thank you, you saved my life. Your idea of hiding in the river to intercept the kidnappers, by taking advantage of the element of surprise, was brilliant. But Mrs. Deerly is not here, but at home, they brought her back. The whole story was a trap to kidnap me…"

Dropping his heavy belt to the ground, Artemus frowned. "You? Alone? The older man put on his best hurt expression. "You and not me? I kind of resent that…" He shivered again. "The water was damn cold, yes… and shook his head vigorously to remove water from his soaked locks." Then he opened Jim's left saddle bag and pulled out the bath towel he had placed there before they left the Wanderer. He wiped his head, his face then the rest of his body and opened the other saddle bag… and found it empty. He frowned puzzled. Where were his clothes and boots?

Groaning like an angry bear he headed toward Jim. "You're going to pay for this Jim! Dearly." He said catching his best friend's playful grin.

Jim chuckled. "I just couldn't resist the temptation. So sue me." Becoming serious again, he added, "Are you ready to leave?"

The older man nodded. "I'll ride on the buckboard with the prisoners. Let's deliver those men to the sheriff, then we'll head back to the Wanderer. And Instead of sending a letter to Mrs. Rutherford, you'll pay her a visit, bringing her bag with you. She'll be more than happy to know that her best friend is safe and to have her money back. In the meantime, I will take a hot bath or a hot shower, maybe both…." His teeth were chattering. "When I was sitting at the bottom of the river, waiting for your signal, the two gun shots – I had a great idea. I'm going to make a diving mask that allows seeing clearly underwater, with a glass plate and rubber bands to create a watertight seal with the face… Oooh! I could combine my underwater respirator and that mask…"

Jim nodded. "There's a Mr. Big behind that entire scheme… and they will tell me who he is. Once behind the bars of the sheriff's of…"

The two men froze hearing a noise… and saw the driver pull up a lever. Immediately the side of the buckboard opened in two parts, revealing a series of small tubes.

The tubes released jets of a powerful yellow smoke … and Jim and Artie were caught in a huge cloud of knock-out gas.

They moved backward hurriedly, coughing, hands placed to their noses and mouths but it was too late. They collapsed to the ground a few seconds later, unconscious.

WWW

 _Later, somewhere in the Louisiana bayous_

It was dawn, when James West woke – and he was very surprised to find himself hanging upside down, suspended by a rope over of the stagnant water of a pond. He noticed that the rope passed over the big branch of a tree and it was attached to the trunk of it.

His fingertips brushed the surface of the water…

He turned to his left and saw that his partner (still asleep) was in the same situation, but as he was taller than he, his hands were immersed in the water.

He knew why they have been placed here, like that, when he saw a group of six alligators lying on a small bank, a little further along: they were their next meal.

He elbowed Artemus.

The older man woke with a start and gasped in surprise finding himself dangling in a massive cypress, his hands underwater. "What the hell…?" He rapidly became aware of the situation and stared at the alligators lying in the sun on a grassy bank. "Ah! Interesting. That's a first. No one has ever thought about that kind of horrible death before… and the list is beginning to be long. I should write it. Loveless you think? The buckboard with the knock-out gas was a good idea… very ingenious, and the whole scheme to capture us was much elaborate. Very Loveless."

Jim activated his sleeve-gun. "Brace yourself Artie; you're going to take a bath." And shot at the rope suspending his partner in the air, with his concealed Derringer, twice.

The thick rope held on, held on… and finally broke, and Artemus curled on himself just before hitting the surface of the boggy water.

Immediately the alligators moved toward the swampy pond at top speed, splashing loudly in the water then swimming silently through the murky water.

In a flash Artemus removed the rope encircling his ankles and rushed toward the muddy bank. He untied the rope keeping Jim suspended over the pond, but instead of lowering his best friend – directly in the mouths of the alligators, filled with long sharp teeth, he lifted him in the air – upward to the branch.

Pulling himself up, Jim grabbed it… just as a monstrous alligator pounced on Artie – on his back, coming out from the bushes. "Artie! Behind you!" and activated the spring-loaded, swing-out knife-blade in his boot to cut the rope tying his ankles together.

Immediately Artie turned around and stiffened, all color drained from his face… and two gun shots resounded, scaring the birds, killing the massive reptile just at his feet.

Shocked, Artemus stood paralyzed, pale as death, eyes opened wide in terror. He kept staring at the big mouth of the alligator, at his big teeth.

Jim suddenly dropped to the ground and grabbed his companion's shoulders. "Artie, you okay?" then as he got no reaction, he shook him. "Artie! Are you okay?"

Blinking back to life, Artie swallowed audibly, "I really hate alligators," he said and now trembling, he moved back from the dead beast. "Yes, yes, I'm okay."

They looked around them and Jim said, "We're somewhere deep in the bayous… who did this to us, you think? Loveless?"

Looking around him too, Artie nodded. "I'm sure, and he's probably somewhere… and he enjoyed the whole show…"

They recognized Loveless cackling laugh before seeing the man, who appeared on the bank, accompanied by a muscle-bound man holding a big rifle.

Two armed men followed, holding a wooden box each.

Artie sighed. "Speaking of the devil…"

Jim sighed. "Sometimes I would like you not always to be right, Artie."

Miguelito Loveless grinned. "Mr. West, Mr. Gordon, I hope you liked by little 'mise en bouche'… before your further adventures in the bayous and your inevitable demise. I was observing you, yes, you were right Mr. Gordon, and I really enjoyed the _show_. I knew that you would find a way to escape from the alligators, with the help of your wonderful gadgets, and you did. Bravo! I wasn't disappointed, but thrilled! I usually remove your arsenal but not this time, I wanted to show Mr. Johnson here, the famous Secret Services agents James West and Artemus Gordon in action, and he loved your performance."

The man nodded.

Artie bowed. "It was a pleasure to entertain you, Dr. Loveless."

His face like stone, the diminutive man continued, "But you won't need them for what comes next." He pointed at the muddy ground. "Take off your clothes Mr. West. Mr. Gordon is already in his underwear… and by the way, let me congratulate you, Mr. Gordon; the man you injured in the buckboard told me what happened. Hiding under the water in the river was very intelligent and surprising. I didn't expect that. It is unfortunate that we can't work together you and I, with your talent added to mine, nothing and nobody could stop us and the world would be ours in no time."

Bowing his head, Artie smiled. "Thank you for those nice compliments, Dr. Loveless. I appreciate it, but I don't need another partner."

In the meantime Jim had taken his clothes off – except his underwear. "Satisfied?"

Loveless was satisfied and looked up at the mountain-like built man standing at his side. "Let me introduce you to my new employee. Mr. Kurt Johnson is the best hunter of the world – he has killed the biggest and the most dangerous animals all around the world, and men, occasionally, for money and sport, and he loves that. Mr. Johnson was ready to intervene, just in case… and he saved Mr. Gordon's life in killing that beast. I hadn't planned the sudden appearance of that very big alligator though. But I'm glad it gave Mr. Gordon the fright of his life…"

Artie shot Loveless his best glare.

Crossing his arms on his chest, unfazed, Jim asked, "You did all that scheme to get rid of us; you must be very bored, Loveless. Find some hobbies!"

Loveless's face twisted with anger. "You ruined my last plan, and it was brilliant! And you'll pay for that! And for Kitty's death, too, she couldn't swim, she drowned in that pond." Both Jim and Artie looked sad. "It's your fault if she's dead." He abruptly calmed down. "When I heard you were heading to New Orleans, I built that plan to capture you, and it worked perfectly. I was sure that Mrs. Rutherford would ask you help, as you helped her in the past. "He snapped his fingers and the two henchmen took a step forward before opening the box they were holding. Loveless continued, "I created those devices just for you gentlemen… They are parts from my latest invention. I created all this just for you, for that occasion." He paused while taking two metallic collars out from a box. "With that collar around your neck, gentlemen, Mr. Johnson here will be able to follow you everywhere. You see, the collars possess a build-in transmitter that emits a powerful radio-electric signal that Mr. Johnson could follow with this device…" He pulled a metallic device out from the second box and pressed a button. Immediately louds beeps resounded, "A receiver. The closer you are to that device, I call a receiver, the stronger are the beeps. Once the collars are locked, they can't be opened – unless you have the right key." He pulled it out from his jacket pocket. "Mr. Johnson is going to pursue you through the bayous as wild animals, and he will kill you. He never misses his targets. Never. You won't escape him; he's the best tracker in the world. I only chose the best for you, gentlemen."

Jim smiled. "And I will chose the best prison for you," he deadpanned.

Loveless chuckled. "I'm going to miss your dry humor Mr. West." He rubbed his hands in glee. "What do you think of my plan?"

Rubbing his stubbled chin, in a relaxed way, Artemus said, "It's very creative, but it's not going to the top of my 'how to get rid of James West and Artemus Gordon', list." He smiled. 'Maybe next time – because your plan will fail, like all the others."

Loveless shook his finger. "Oh no! No this time. Mr. Johnson here will kill you and I'm sure of that, because he loves the thrill of a good hunt, he loves to kill and because he'll be very rich after he kills you." He snapped his fingers and gave the key he was holding to his red-haired henchman. "This time, your talent for survival will be useless, futile. You will die."

Jim smiled, unfazed. "Will not."

Loveless groaned. "'You will die. Collar them and give me the key!"

Kurt Johnson pointed his gun toward Jim. "Don't try anything…" he said. "Unless you want to start all this with a bullet in your body."

The two henchmen complied.

Loveless gave the receiver to the professional hunter. "Enjoy the manhunt, Mr. Johnson; they will be worthy prey I'm sure. I will find you easily in the bayou, don't worry. Your receiver emits a signal which I can pick up on another receiver. I'm giving you the whole day and night to hunt them and kill them. I'll find you at dawn. And using the fishing boat, we will leave the bayous as easily as we came here. No one will ever find their bodies. The alligators will make a nice meal of them." He shook his finger. "Don't disappoint me, Mr. Johnson."

Kurt Johnson nodded and looking at the two half-naked agents, standing in front of him, he said, "I won't, Doctor. I'm giving you one hour start. Run!"

Jim and Artemus exchanged glances - and ran.

Loveless watched the two special agents as they ran at top speed along the bank and then looked up at Johnson. "You'll start the pursuit in 15 minutes. I never told them that I wouldn't cheat, did I?" Then he let out a maniacal laugh.

Johnson smiled cruelly.

WWW

 _Later_

They ran on patches of flat land covered with tall grass, walked on muddy and waterlogged ground (avoiding snakes and croaking frogs, and snakes eating frogs), crawled on slippery banks from twisted roots to twisted roots, climbed over uprooted and slick trees and swam into alligator-infested slow-moving water. And again and again. For hours.

Exhausted and thirsty Jim and Artemus halted on a muddy bank bordered with water plants, with big cypresses and willows overhanging it, branches draped in Spanish moss.

Artemus wiped away beads of sweat that trickled down his face. The sweltering Louisiana heat was just horrible, he thought.

Looking at Jim he said, 'I just hate heat and even more that kind of suffocating heat," he rasped, wetting his parched lips. "Next time, I'll suggest to Loveless a manhunt in a cool place, next time, like in the North pole!" He leaned against the bark covered with sticky moss and sighed. "I knew it was him…"

Jim glanced around him. "We have to continue buddy, because that man, Johnson won't stop. He wants to kill us, remember?"

Glancing around him in his turn, Artie said, "I know. But where to go? The bayous are huge, Jim." He slapped his arm, killing a big mosquito instantly. "Nasty little devils!" he looked at his arms and legs covered with red itching spots and began scratching himself. "Tell me why mosquitoes are not draining your blood, but only mine? It's not fair."

Placing a hand on Artemus's shoulder, Jim said, '"I don't know, maybe yours is more to their taste than mine. I know that we need to take some rest, but we have to move on, Artie."

The two men started running again.

They stopped hours later, collapsing in the shade of a willow tree, tired beyond definition, soaked to the bone and covered in slime and mud.

Raising a weak hand reddened with mosquito bites, Artie whispered, flexing his very sore arms and legs. "May I suggest that we set a trap for Johnson? Because I can't do this any…"

They both heard a gun shot and a bullet barely missed Artie's head by an inch, a split second later. The two agents immediately moved behind the big tree.

Jim gritted his teeth. "He cheated! There's no way he could have caught up with us so fast, with one hour between us and him. He had to have left at least 15 minutes after we did." He glanced at his partner. "Artie you're an inventor right? Then you could build us weapons, like now."

Artemus rolled his eyes and said, "I'm a special agent, not a magician! I have an idea! We could throw him alligators!" he said, in a sarcastic tone.

Poking Artie's side with his elbow, Jim gave a short laugh. "Choose them young and light, then, Artemus. I couldn't throw a pillow my limbs hurt so much."

Shooting a black look at his companion, Artie whispered, 'That's not funny… he has a big rifle and us, just mud in our hands."

Groaning, he chased a dozen of mosquitoes flying around him.

Looking up, Jim said, "I'm going to climb up there to see where he is… Try to find something we could use in the meantime." Then he started to climb in a very old willow, hidden by drapes of Spanish moss.

Rolling his eyes again, Artie cursed under his breath and looked around him. He spotted a big branch, grabbed it and froze. There was a rustling in the bushes nearby. "It's Johnson!" he whispered, brandishing his branch, and gasped in both surprise and alarm when a black bear came out – a mama bear, to be precise, sniffing around curiously, followed closely by her two cubs.

Shifting into protective mode, the she-bear stood on its hind legs, and growled, menacingly.

Artie took a few deep, calming breaths and moved backwards, away from the black bear, not making any sudden movements.

"I'm not going to hurt your cubs, they're adorable," he said to the mama bear.

But the she-bear suddenly charged.

Artie stood rooted to the spot for a couple of seconds, blood drained from his face, looking with eyes wide in horror at the beast coming right at him, snarling. Then, his survival instincts kicked in instinctively and he sprinted in the opposite direction, running as fast as he could, the mama bear pursuing him, picking up speed and letting out loud angry growls.

He tripped on a large root and collapsed against the base of a large cypress, half hidden with dangling lichen, and rolled into a ball, covering his face with his arms.

Closing his eyes, Artemus waited for the inevitable. He screamed when the female black bear's sharp claws slashed across his shoulders, puncturing his skin and muscles there.

Smiling, admiring the spectacle and focused on the agent's mauling, Kurt Johnson forgot all caution and padded behind the big and very old tree… and gasped in surprise when Jim jumped on him, forcing him to drop his gun to the mossy ground.

Pinning the hunter to the ground, Jim started pummeling the other man's face, hard, fast, breaking bones, adrenaline rushing in his veins, forgetting any trace of fatigue and pain. With one thing in mind: save Artie who was still screaming.

The hunter, his face covered in blood, collapsed on his side, passed out.

Grabbing Johnson's rifle, Jim fired twice, at the ground just in front of the cubs, on. Mama bear pivoted in a flash and reared up on her hind legs. Jim fired again; frightening the mini bears, which let out distressed sounds. The she-bear dropped back to her front paws and rushed to protect them, abandoning Artie. They vanished in the dense, deep green forest.

In a split second Jim was at Artie's side and a chill traveled down his spine. "Dear God!" he said, and he grimaced seeing Artie's back lacerated with deep scratches bleeding profusely, and took his pulse. He sighed in relief as he found one. He stood, divested Johnson of his jacket and shirt, and used the hunter's knife to make fabric strips out of them. Then he gently bandaged Artemus's mauled shoulders the best he could. After that, he removed Johnson's pants, cut long bands in them to use to tie him up.

He finally sat against the tree and pulled Artie into his arms. "Loveless will be here tomorrow at mid-day with his boat, and I will take him, Artemus."

Struggling to open his eyes, Artie mumbled, "Bear…" then he panted as he had trouble breathing. "Bea-bear… hurts-hurts," he rasped, tears flowing down his face drawn with pain.

He screamed in agony -The pain was too great - and thrashed.

Closing his embrace even more tightly, Jim said, "The bear is gone Artie, you're safe, you're safe. You're going to be alright."

Tbc.


	3. Act Two

**THE NIGHT OF THE LOST PIRATE SHIP**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT TWO**

 _Later, at night_

The full moon shone brightly. The air was heavy, oppressive, with its humidity. Crickets were chirping and the nite was filled with many noises they couldn't identify.

Nestled against Jim to keep himself warm, Artemus said, "I'm not going to make it this time… My luck has just run out." He was so cold that his whole body was shivering and hid teeth were chattering. "At least the mosquitoes aren't bothering me anymore…"

Pressing Artemus against him, minding his torn shoulders, James said, "That's because I'm holding you, they don't like me. You're going to make it, Artie. You can't die."

Artie smiled weakly. "'Not immortal y'know."

Jim smiled broadly. "After what you went through since I've known you and survived, I wouldn't be so sure of that, buddy."

Closing his eyes Artemus said, "I hope you have a plan to capture Loveless, his men, and take his boat to get out of here… 'cause I can't help you… not my breathing mask…"

Jim nodded. "We're going to play dead Artie… _just play_. I mean it. Don't die on me buddy, or I swear that I'll make you pay when I'm dead. We'll take Loveless by surprise I know, it is not the best of plans. But it is you who usually makes them ."

Eyes fluttering open, Artie mumbled, 'sorry, can't die and make… plans at the same time." Then he closed his eyes again. "But I have a better idea…"

Grimacing, Jim straightened up a little against the trunk of the willow tree he was leaning against. "What's your idea?"

But Artemus didn't say anything. He had passed out again.

Something splashed into the water very near them, somewhere between the trees.

WWW

 _At dawn_

Loveless disembarked from his row-boat, immediately followed by one henchman. He smiled with glee seeing the inert bodies of the two men he wanted dead, sprawled on the muddy bank.

James West was on top.

He applauded. "Bravo Johnson, bravo! I knew you wouldn't disappoint me. James West and Artemus Gordon are dead…"

He glanced around him, not seeing the hunter. "Where are you Johnson?" He spotted the other man's hand, coming out from behind a tree.

"Here, behind the tree! I broke my ankle, I can't walk, and I need help!'

Loveless looked up at his henchman. "Go help him!... while I'm admiring Mr. Johnson's work. I just can't believe it… they're both dead…"

The man headed toward the tree, turned to the right and… moved backward, his hands raised, Artie pointing a rifle at him.

Artie smiled. "I perfectly imitated Johnson's voice, it would seem." Then he smiled.

Loveless blinked twice, stunned.

Suddenly, Jim, who wasn't dead, pulled himself into a sitting position, holding Johnson's knife and placed the tip on Loveless's throat. "As you can see, we're not dead. And your plan failed again. You will never win, Loveless," never," he said.

He stood up and Loveless could see that the man lying on the ground was Kurt, unconscious, tied up and gagged. He sighed in defeat. "Well done," he said.

Jim looked at his companion who could barely stand on his legs, very pale and sweating profusely. "Yes, well done Artie. Good plan. Time to leave buddy," he said.

High in the blue sky, a bald eagle let out a series of high pitched sounds.

WWW

 _Much later_

 _In Loveless's fishing boat_

Miguelito Loveless knelt on the deck beside his patient. Artemus Gordon's face was as pale as death itself and he looked dead already. He unwrapped Artie's ragged wounds. He dropped the blood-soaked bands to the ground and observed the deep cuts, frowning. He poked not gently, at the, red-inflamed tissue around the deep cuts and nodded. "It's deep, and infection has set in…"

Pointing his revolver down at the diminutive man, Jim said, "You're a doctor, take care of him. He dies, you die, it's that simple." Then he rubbed his itching neck, free of the metallic collar.

Loveless nodded and looked up at the agent, standing beside the railing. "I need the first aid kit. It's the box under the right bunk in the cabin."

Pointing the gun at a goon standing to the stern, Jim commanded, "Bring that box here, and nothing else. If you don't, your boss is a dead man."

Loveless glanced at his henchman. "Do what he said," He added. "Hurry!" and he watched the other man head toward the cabin.

Still aiming his gun at Loveless, Jim glanced at the second henchman driving the boat, Jim asked, "How long before we reach New-Orleans?"

Keeping his eyes on the Mississippi to avoid sand banks, the man replied, "At sunset, I think. Navigation is tricky in that part of the river."

The first henchman came back with a wooden box.

He placed it beside Loveless and opened it, revealing different bottles, bandages, a syringe, powder sachets, a cloth and a sewing kit.

Loveless opened a first bottle and liberally poured the disinfectant on Artemus's gashes.

The older man regained consciousness threw his head back and grunted between clenched teeth. Then he went limp, passed out again.

Loveless took the cloth and started removing all the dried and fresh blood, the deep cuts still oozing blood, slowly, gently. "He's lucky to be alive… that bear could have killed him. But it will take a long time for him to heal," he said.

He inserted the needle of the syringe into another bottle (of laudanum) and moved it to Artemus's neck and placed the sharp tip against his patient's jugular… with a large grin. Jim reacted too late. "Drop your gun or your partner is going to die. A massive dose of that drug is going to kill him almost immediately. Do it Mr. West, you know I'm not joking."

Moving his gun downward next to Loveless's right ear, his lips thinned; his expression harder than granite, Jim coldly said, "Put that syringe away right now, before I put a bullet in your head. I'm not joking either, Loveless, you know what Artemus is to me."

Loveless smiled. "A brother, I know. It looks like it's a Mexican standoff… I think I've got _a solution that'll make_ things right for both of us."

Placing the end of the barrel of the revolver against Loveless's nose, Jim said, "Tell me." Then he glanced at the needle piercing Artie's skin. "Tell me," he repeated.

Loveless used his free hand to show the bank of the river where some fishermen's houses were aligned under trees. "I will disembark there, and you will continue to New Orleans, your partner is in a bad shape, he could die, and there's a good hospital in New Orleans. Doctors will save him." He paused, smiling in victory. "We'll have the opportunity to meet again."

Looking down at Artemus's profile, features strained, Jim nodded, "I accept. We'll meet again." He shot Loveless a feral smile. "And I promise you something: you'll end behind bars, forever."

Loveless chuckled. "We'll see." He glanced at Kurt Johnson still tied up and gagged. "Keep him. He failed his mission. I don't like losers." Then he looked up at the man standing at the helm. "Lead us to the river bank, Sanderson."

The small fishing boat headed there.

WWW

 _New Orleans hospital_

 _The next morning_

Lying on his stomach, head to the side, Artemus Gordon slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurred but he could see a bluish form in front of him. "Jim?" He immediately wrinkled his nose, smelling something absolutely revolting. "Gaah…"

Smiling, Jim brought his chair closer to the bed and took Artie's hand in his. "Yes, it's me. You're at the hospital buddy." He smiled. "I know, the smell is horrible, but it's a special ointment that Dr. Bloomfield put on your stitched wounds. It's an old medicinal Choctaw treatment, he told me. With that, they will vanish in two days. No scars. He told me that a Choctaw medicine man taught him how to do it. Choctaw hunted black bears for food, and they were often hurt, and with that ointment they could hunt again two days later. The nurse gave you a little laudanum too."

Pressing Jim's fingers, the older man whispered, "Y'know, I had a dream after we received that box with the leopards… The mama l'pard mauled me… but it was a bear which mauled me in that b'yo… premonitory dream perhaps?... When she attacked me. I was sure that she was going to kill me, Jim. And I'm alive…thanks to y'o, t'ank y'o."

Jim grinned. "That was a pleasure. You're indestructible, Artie. You should know that by now, after all of what you went through."

Closing his eyes, feeling drowsy, Artie smiled. "Two days here, 'ight? Goody. Are Mir-mir'anda and Camille still working here? They're twins you know? But Miranda's br'nette and… and… Cam… is…"

He went fully limp instantly falling asleep.

Smiling Jim placed Artie's hand beside his face and said, "Sleep well buddy." He stood and headed toward the door. He was starving, and there was a saloon a little further down the street. 'Mmm, a big juicy steak, with mashed potatoes and gravy and…'

He abruptly halted his thought when meeting a lovely blonde and a lovely brunette nurse in the corridor with nice… curves everywhere and looking alike – except for the hair color. They were ready to enter Artie's room. The first one was holding a basin filled with steaming water. A sponge was floating on the soapy surface and the other one, a pot of smelly Choctaw ointment and bandages.

Eating was so overrated, that could wait, he thought. "Hello ladies, can I stay when you take care of my friend Mr. Gordon?"

They nodded, smiling, and the blonde said, "Of course, we don't mind, on the contrary," his cheeks blushing a little, she batted her long eyelashes seductively. "My name is Camille, and this is my sister, Miranda. Miranda and I remember you, you're James West, Artemus's partner…You were at his side the last time he came here. He had a badly sprained ankle."

Smiling too Jim said, "it was six months ago, you have a good memory." He was ready to follow the nurses inside when he heard someone call him.

Turning around, Jim noticed a man in a uniform, a Colonel heading toward him, and recognized Stephen Henderson.

He automatically stood at attention. "Sir."

The Chief Medical Officer of the Washington Military Hospital and personal physician and surgeon of the President, smiled and said, "At ease, Jim. The President wants to see Artemus and you as soon as possible, and as I wanted to stretch my legs, I volunteered to pick you up. The engineer of the Wanderer told me that I would find you here – and I wasn't surprised. Artemus Gordon is a magnet for trouble – even when he's between on standby between missions. Let me guess, Artemus Gordon, trouble magnet extraordinaire, is injured. What is it this time? A bullet? An arrow? He was stabbed?"

Jim shook his head. "No, Sir. It's a long story, Sir. Artemus was a bit mauled by a mama black bear in the bayous…"

Henderson lifted his eyebrows, stunned. "What?" He entered Artemus's room just when Miranda was gently cleaning Artemus back and a bit lower with a soapy cloth. Artie was still sleeping. He quickly introduced himself to the nurses and observed the neatly stitched deep cuts. "Mmm… that's good work. I could not have done better myself." He took the pot of ointment and sniffed it. "What's this?" he asked Camille.

Camille replied, "It's a Choctaw ointment, Doctor. Dr. Bloomfield uses it to facilitate and accelerate healing, and thanks to it, the scars will vanish after the sutures are removed."

Henderson nodded. "Interesting." He turned around and said to Jim, "I'll bring the President here, as Artemus is not transportable for the moment." He looked at Camille again. "Did you give Mr. Gordon something for the pain, nurse?"

Camille nodded. "Yes, half a spoon of laudanum, a couple of hours ago… he was hurting, but the effects are fading."

Henderson nodded. "I hope he'll be lucid when the President arrives."

WWW

 _Later,_

Brow furrowed in worry President Ulysses S. Grant leaned toward Artemus, lying on his stomach, on his hospital bed, white sheet and blanked pulled up to his lower back, covering half of his tattoo. He was still dead to the world, laudanum-drugged.

He observed the stitched wounds covered with the smelly Choctaw ointment, which were still visible beneath the viscous grayish preparation, and grimaced.

Glancing at the military doctor standing at the foot of the bed Grant asked, "Is Artemus going to be all right, Stephen?"

Henderson nodded. "Yes Sir. Dr. Bloomfield did a really good job in stitching the wounds on his shoulders and that Indian ointment will facilitate and accelerate the healing. It will make the scars vanish too after the sutures are removed."

Grant turned around to face James West standing on the other side of the bed. "I will read your detailed report later, Jim; I want the short version now."

Glancing at Artie, and then looking at the President, Jim said, "Dr. Loveless set up an elaborate trap, Sir. We ended up somewhere in the bayous. He had hired a professional hunter to chase us and kill us… I managed to capture him but Artie was attacked by a black bear. We managed to capture Loveless and his men, and using Loveless's boat we left the bayous. But I was forced to release them, minus Johnson, the hunter. Having arrived in the port, I took Artie to the hospital."

Grant wasn't happy. "That twisted little man is gone, God knows where…" He sighed. "You'll find him, after completing your next assignment." He pulled up a chair and settled it as close as possible to the bed and of the unconscious man lying on it. "I'd like to delay it – given Artemus's actual state – but I can't. I could have put other agents on this mission, but Ambassador Dupré has specified that he wanted Artemus and you on this case… He knows you and appreciates you…"

Moving closer to the President Jim nodded. "Yes, Sir. Monsieur Dupré invited us several times to the French Embassy. What is the mission, Sir?"

Grant sighed and said, "You will have the responsibility of ensuring security of a French archaeologist Henri Petit and the six men accompanying him, all French soldiers, in the bayous… They want to find the _Invincible_ , a French frigate lost somewhere in the bayous in 1797 – with her hold filled with a chest containing gold bars. The President of France Patrice Mac Mahon wants to have it back, and to maintain good relations with France, I granted that archeological expedition on US territory. A month ago Mr. Petit found a map in the Bibliothèque Nationale indicating where the ship ran aground, drawn by a man called Fernand Martin, former sailor on board the Invincible. He was one of the five men who managed to come back to France. They made a report to the Admiralty and a copy of this report was found with the map. Almost all the members of the crew and the officers were dead when the Invincible ended up in the Mississippi River. There was a mutiny on board and they were caught in a hurricane. The ship was badly damaged, irreparable. Everything is noted in Mister Petit's letter. "He looked at Artemus hearing the other man moan in his sleep. "Artemus?"

Eyes fluttering open, Artemus let out a second moan and shifted, wincing. "Jim…"

Sitting on the edge of the bunk, Jim took Artie's hand in his, pressing it. "I'm here Artemus; you're safe, go back to sleep."

His vision blurred, mind sluggish, Artie didn't recognized Grant sitting on a chair at his side, but saw the black mass of something. He gasped and recoiled. "Bear!"

Pulling Artemus against him in a protective gesture, Jim shook his head. "There's no bear here, Artie… it's the President."

Grant understood in a flash and took off his black jacket and black waistcoat. The effect was immediate, Artie calmed down.

Impressed Jim smiled. "Quick thinking Mr. President… it's the laudanum, everything's blurred to Artie. He didn't recognize you and took you for a black bear." He gently laid Artie down on the bed and stared into his partner's unseeing but wide open eyes, blind with pain and terror. "It's okay, the bear's gone, you're safe." He took his hand in his and pressed it. "You're safe, relax."

Henderson couldn't help but smirk – and Grant noticed it. He frowned and said, "I may sometimes react like an angry bear… don't I Stephen?'

Henderson smiled innocently. "If you say so, Sir."

Finally relaxing, Artemus let his eyes drift closed and fell asleep.

Ulysses S. Grant stood and said, "I have a file on all this on my desk, in my train, with Mr. Petit's letter, a copy of the plan where the ship is, the copy of the report and the complete schematics of the Invincible. I'll sent my aide to bring it to you. Another thing, Jim. It would seem that that ship is located in Choctaw territory. The Choctaw live in isolation, deep in the bayous, away from white people, to avoid any conflict with them, practicing their culture as they have for generations. It's not going to be easy to contact them and even less easy to convince them to let an expedition of white men plus a white woman to start exploring their territory, to find a lost ship. Artemus and you will have to contact them and have their authorization. You will have to do this alone, no one is to know about this mission, or people attracted by a gold treasure would flock to the bayous… and there would be skirmishes with Indians, and dead people on each side. I don't want another conflict here between Choctaw and white men. You have a week before Mr. Petit and his escort, arrive in New Orleans." Looking down at Artemus, struggling to stay awake, he added, "It's not going to be an easy pre-mission and I hope you will succeed, because the future expedition - or not, will depend on it."

Jim smiled. "I understand Sir. Artemus is going to love going back in the bayous."

WWW

 _Much later, at night, in the Wanderer's parlor car_

Pouring himself a fifth cup of coffee, Artie said, "I know that I can't refuse a mission, but I can say that I hate all this. And I hate the bayous!"

Closing the file labelled 'Petit's expedition', Jim nodded. "Yes you can, buddy." He stood and began to clear the table, stacking the plates and empty dishes. "We have a week to convince the Choctaw chief to authorize the expedition." He finished his glass of red wine. "But first things first, we have to work out how to find the Choctaw territory."

Eating the last blueberry muffin Artie looked at the map of the Choctaw territory dating from 1830, after the Treaty of Dancing Rabbit Creek. It was the only known map. "It's an old map, and the whole bayous have changed since 1830." He replaced it in the file, having memorized it with his photographic memory.

It was too tempting and Jim couldn't resist. "You were born in 1830, Artie, thus you're old too…" then he chuckled softly.

Pursing his lips, scowling Artie said, "Why thank you for reminding me Jim." He sighed. "As this mission is secret, we can't hire a guide…"

His arms loaded Jim headed toward the galley. "We have just a week to find the Choctaw, convince their chief to authorize the expedition, and come back here." He entered the galley and come back ten seconds later, his hands free. "I suggest that we start that pre-mission as soon as possible, at dawn tomorrow. I'm going to rent a boat and a canoe while you're preparing everything we'll need, okay? And when I'm back, I'll take care of your shoulders."

Artie smiled. "I'd prefer Camille and Miranda doing it, they have such delicate hands…"

Heading toward the door, Jim smiled and said, "I'm sorry buddy, but you'll have to be content with my calloused hands."

WWW

 _The next day,_

 _Late afternoon,_

 _Somewhere in the bayous_

Artie grunted. The stitches in his shoulder pulled with each movement. Paddling was very painful and he did the minimum, letting Jim direct the canoe.

Bayous were all the same: bald cypresses, swamps and marshes. Alligators were swimming silently around them, eying them hungrily.

Not reassured, Artie tried to think about something else but being devoured alive, "The word bayou originates from the Choctaw word 'bayuk', which means small stream, but it's a French word…." He stopped his exposé as he spotted a black bear on a grassy bank, a male, bigger than the female that had attacked him. He swallowed hard when the animal looked at them… and walked away.

Closing his eyes, his paddle on his lap, Artemus pictured the old map and said, "There should be an anabranching river on the left with twin cypresses on each side…"

Intrigued Jim lifted an eyebrow. 'Ana-what?' He was asking what an anabranch was, when he realized that his best friend would happily describe the hydraulic characteristics of Louisiana for hours… and he wanted some peace. So he said nothing.

Just as he passed along patches of small trees-less wetlands, bordered by weeds and shrubs, dozens of frogs started to croak.

Artemus opened his eyes and could see the twin cypresses on each side of the canoe. He smiled. "Good! Choctaw territory begins here." He re-started paddling, slowly, and on a sarcastic tone he said, "It would seem that old things are holding up…" He heard Jim chuckle at his back.

Directing the canoe on the right 'anabranch', Jim said, "I was teasing you, Artemus, you know that. You're not old, buddy, just much older than me, 15 years is a long time…" He let out a short mocking laughter. "That's why you call me James-my-boy…"

Paddling gently in the slow-moving water, Artie groaned in response, suddenly feeling very old and tired. He closed his eyes again and said, "After the twin cypresses we should see a series of 7 small islands with a big rounded rock in the middle of the fourth one… Then we'll have to take another anabranch on the right, then another on the left… to end up on a small river."

They spotted the big round rock on the fourth island – covered with egrets, and Jim directed the canoe to the right.

Once on the river, they stopped paddling, watching the sun set through the dense foliage of the multi-centennial trees.

His shoulders slumped wearily downward, Artie turned around and glanced at Jim, his eyes unfocussed and heavy with drowsiness. "I think we should camp on that small island there…"

Jim nodded. "Good idea buddy, let's head there."

The two men paddled up to a small sandy island in the middle of the river, covered with a few shrubs and dead trees and they disembarked shortly after.

It was dark A few minutes later.

Artie was too exhausted to eat and to kill the myriad of mosquitoes flying around him, and bare-chested (because it was too hot, and because Jim would have to apply ointment to his stitched wounds) he fell asleep as soon as he was lying on his bedroll.

Tired but mostly hungry, Jim sat on the sand, his back resting against a fallen log, and devoured a whole cold chicken with a jar of pickles, while watching the bonfire that crackled and sparked. Then, he added branches (he had pick up earlier) to it.

Then, taking the pot of ointment Camille had given to him, he moved on his knees beside his now snoring partner.

No pesky mosquitoes bothered Artie after that.

WWW

 _The next day,_

The two men paddled for long hours in stinking stagnant water, sometimes pushing dangling, thick, green leaves and Spanish moss away from their faces.

The heat beneath the bald cypresses was heavy, humid, implacable, and unbearable. But the fauna didn't mind though. Frogs and toads were croaking, insects chirping, birds singing, (bald eagles fishing), and alligators were fighting, with lot of splashing for catfish as big as real cats – and mosquitoes were attacking Artemus relentlessly.

Feeling beads of sweat trickle down his face, Jim asked, "You okay Artie? You didn't say a word in almost half an hour, I'm worried. You're usually very talkative."

Killing an nth mosquito feeding on his arm, Artie nodded. "I'm okay. I was thinking about a new invention… an outboard engine for small boats, some kind of motor with a propeller, installed on the rear, like a canoe for example… small boats could move faster and no one would be rowing or paddling …" He rubbed the back of his neck and went silent again, schematics popping into his mind.

It was the middle of the afternoon when they finally reached their destination: a vast marsh along the small river indicated on the old map.

The place was flat and dominated by grasses, rushes or reeds. They pulled the canoe up on the bank and then took up their backpacks and gun belts.

Pointing to a dark line of trees at the horizon, Artie said, "Straight ahead, Jim. The Choctaw encampment should be on the other side of that forest."

The two men looked around them, thinking the same thing at the same time, and Jim said it first, "We could hide a whole regiment in all that high and thick vegetation – never mind a few Choctaw warriors." He saw Artie nod and asked him, "What do you know about the Choctaw?"

Moving ahead on the squashy ground, Jim following him closely, Artie replied, "Nothing. I know the plain Indians better, Cheyenne and Comanche in particular. As you know, I'm an adoptive Comanche. My Comanche name is Strong Bear." He looked around him in alarm. "And bears could hide here too…" and he landed his hand on the butt of his gun.

Feeling his friend's anxiety radiating toward Jim, the younger man, chose to distract him so he would think about something else, and it worked each time. 'First, tease the man,' he thought, and he said, "Okay, you don't know anything about the Choctaw, but I'm really surprised, you usually know everything about everything…" 'Then looked openly disappointed.

Feeling hurt, Artie groaned, and said, "I'm a secret agent, not a walking encyclopedia…" Then he made some sort of disgruntled noises.

Last part, find something Artie likes, Jim thought. Like plants. "What about those plants around us, Artie, do you know them?"

Smiling Artie nodded. "I can tell you the name of all the plants around us and their characteristics… that plant on the side is called fen-sedge, sawgrass or Twig-sedge, but its scientific name is Cladium…"

Jim smiled when Artie had taken the bait.

WWW

 _Much later_

It was sunset when they reached the other side of the forest discovering a vast open space with cornfields and much further, palisades…

Jim pointed at them. "The village is on the other side, let's go!" he said.

Suddenly a group of Choctaw warriors holding bows and arrows emerged from the side of the cornfields and rapidly encircled them.

They wore breechcloths (with a tomahawk and a knife slid in the belt) and moccasins, had their hair long, but three of them had shaved their heads except for a crest of hair down the center of their head. They also wore tribal tattoos on their arms and legs.

The two agents raised their hands up. Two Choctaw warriors quickly divested them of their guns and backpacks, and then a third man approached.

It was a large man, tall and bony, with long black hair, decorated with eagle feathers. "Go back! Whites are not allowed here," he said, towering above Jim and Artemus.

Raising his hand in a peace gesture, Jim said, "We came a long way to talk to your chief. We have something important to tell him." He added, "We come here in peace."

Feeling suddenly dizzy, his heart racing in his chest, panting, Artemus leaned heavily against Jim. "I'm not feeling too well, Jim… I think I'm going to pass…."

He collapsed to the grassy ground like a rag doll, face first, passed out. Jim knelt beside his best friend and noticed that he had blood on his shoulders.

The tall Choctaw pushed Jim to one side and, using his knife, he cut open Artie's white shirt, revealing his broken stitches oozing blood, revealing the black eagle tattooed on his lower back, too.

The warrior traced the tattoo with his forefinger, fascinated. "Ossi lusa, black eagle." Then he nodded, "I know now that you come in peace. Your companion has an eagle tattooed on his skin, and eagles have direct contact with the upper world of the sun, which is a symbol of peace. He's a man of peace." He frowned, puzzled. "It's a tribal tattoo. Only Indian warriors wear tribal tattoos…he is a white man, he's no warrior."

Jim nodded. "Yes he is. It's a long story…"

The Choctaw warrior then traced the stitched wounds and added, "A bear attacked him… and he survived. He's strong and he shouldn't be unconscious because of his reopened wounds… he didn't bleed much. There's something else." Using his knife, he cut Artemus's boots and pants and surveyed the white man's bare legs, saying, "Snakes hide in the tall grass in the forest and they bite so quickly that you don't feel a thing…" He spotted two punctures wounds on the right calf, and the skin was red and swollen all around. "Snake bite… The snake bit him through his boot, so it's not deep, there's not enough venom running in his veins to kill him, but he's going to be very sick… it happened only a few minutes ago…"

The Choctaw used his knife to cut open the bitten area. He knelt down beside Artemus's prone form and sucked out the venom, spitting the poisoned blood to the side. He did that three times, and then he hoisted Artemus's limp body on his shoulder, effortlessly. "My name is Nakni lmanukfila tunshpa, that means Eagle-eyed warrior. What's yours?"

Jim smiled, "James, it comes from the Hebrew ya' aqob, it means 'that God favors', as for my friend, his name is Artemus, it means Strong Bear."

Eagle-eyed warrior nodded. "Then why does he have an eagle tattooed on his back? He should have a bear. I don't understand."

Jim sighed. "It's a long story."

Nakni lmanukfila tunshpa nodded. "It's a long way to the village…"

Tbc.


	4. Act Three

**THE NIGHT OF THE LOST PIRATE SHIP**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT THREE**

 _Later in the Choctaw village_

Lying on his stomach, in his underwear, on a mat of woven fibers, Artemus Gordon was struggling to regain consciousness, his eyes fluttering.

But they didn't open.

Nakishwana okchvko (Blue Catfish), the Choctaw alikchi (medicine man), was sitting cross-legged beside Artemus. He was holding a bowl containing brownish water, (he had previously boiled roots of nipi lapushkichi - Sampson Snake Root, pain reliever for snakebites), and a cloth and was washing the snakebite.

The chief looked at Jim standing beside Nakni lmanukfila tunshpa, (Eagle-Eyed Warrior), beside the fire pit, which was in the center of the house, the smoke leaving the house by a smoke hole in the roof. "My name is Hatak hopoksia yukpa, that means 'Wise Man who is cheerful'. I'm the leader of the Choctaws. You are the first we see in a long time. Many Choctaw never had seen white men. How did you find us?"

"With an old map," Jim responded. "My friend memorized it before we left New Orleans. He has a very good memory."

Hatak hopoksia yukpa, (Wise Man Who Is Cheerful), painfully knelt beside Artemus and he, too, fingered the black eagle tattoo, and then traced the scars left by the eagle's talons, white marks on his back covered with mosquitoes bites. "Nakni lmanukfila tunshpa told me what happened to your friend with that eagle… and why he is called Strong Bear and not Black Eagle. You must be proud to have an atacoulitopa, a man of valor, at your side, James, protected by the Shilup Chitoh Osh, the Great Spirit," He said something in his language and Eagle-Eyed Warrior brought him a stool. He sat on it, heavily and pointed at a mat. "Please, sit down; my honored guests don't stay upright." Then he smiled broadly. He had lost almost all his teeth.

Jim complied then glanced at Artie who was barely conscious, lethargic and nauseous (he had vomited three times already). "I'm very worried about my friend…"

Wise Man Who Is Cheerful nodded. "I know, but do not worry, James, Hatak hopoksia has often treated snakebites. It is quite common to be bitten by a snake in the bayous. Choctaws all were bitten at least once and no one died. Your friend is in good hands."

Blue Catfish took a black stone and placed it on the snake bite. Artie immediately moaned and thrashed while the medicine man tied it firmly in place with vegetal fibers.

The leader of the Choctaw explained, "The stone is drawing the rest of the venom from the wound, that's why Strong Bear is in pain. Once the poison is all removed, the black stone will turn white and Nakishwana okchvko will remove it. It could take a few hours… In the meantime, Nakishwana okchvko, Blue Catfish is going to take care of the wounds your friend has on his shoulders with an ointment much more powerful than the one you brought because it has ingredients that you could only find here."

Flinching, Artie grunted when the medicine man applied his own ointment, even more greasy, sticky and smelly, on his un-stitched wounds.

Wise Man Who Is Cheerful continued, "You will stay here, with your friend the White Comanche. We will talk tomorrow in the meeting house. You need rest." He stood. "You must be hungry, too. I'm going to ask my daughter Hatabushik tohbi to bring you some food." He bent and left the house through the low door.

Eagle-Eyed Warrior said, "Hatabushik tohbi means White Butterfly," and he specified, "She's my wife." He smiled and added, "Good night. I'll see you tomorrow." Then he left in his turn.

Moving on his knees toward Artie, Jim asked the medicine man, "How is he?"

The Choctaw just replied, "He's going to survive." Then, he moved to the end of the house and started rummaging through his pots.

White Butterfly entered the house shortly after.

She was petite, lovely, with a round face and big brown eyes. She had her hair long and plaited and was wearing a blouse and skirt, made of cotton material, and moccasins. She was holding a bowl of soup, with two spoons half immerged in it, and a round cornbread.

She placed the bowl of soup and the piece of bread on the mat and smiled. "If you need something else, just call me. My name is Hatabushik tohbi."

Jim smiled. "I will, if I need to, thank you."

She glanced at Artie still moving restlessly on his mat, then she left the house. Hungry, Jim took a piece of bread and devoured it.

He leaned toward Artie, bringing his face close to the other man's and asked, "You hungry buddy?" and received a black look and a loud groan as a reply.

He took the bowl of soup and the cornbread and sat cross-legged beside Artie – who was moaning through clenched jaws.

Blue Catfish placed a smoking bowl just under Arie's nose and Artemus breathed the smoke… the effect was immediate: he went limp.

The alikchi put a lid on the bowl then said, "He will sleep like a stone until tomorrow." Then he went back to where he stored his pots.

WWW

 _The next morning_

The loud, rhythmic noise of the torrential rain hitting the thatched roof woke Jim – lying back to back with Artemus. He pulled himself into a sitting position and looked around him, disoriented. Then he recognized the medicine man's house and everything came back.

He smiled when Artie, still sleeping, moved on his stomach, huffing, and he noticed with surprise that the other man's wounds (unstitched) had almost vanished.

He stood and stretched.

Blue Catfish entered his house a few seconds later, soaked to the bones. He was holding a bundle of clothes in his arms.

He handed them to Jim. "It's for your friend," he said, and then knelt beside Artemus, touching and probing his shoulders. "He's healing fast. Good." He stood and added, "Hatak hopoksia yukpa wants to see you in the meeting house." Then he left.

Kneeling in his turn beside Artie, Jim shook his best friend's arm. "Time to wake up Artie. We have a mission, remember?"

Eyes fluttering open Artie moaned. "Boy… I have a mother of all hangovers…" He rolled on his back, winced and looked around him, blinking in confusion. He realized that he was lying on his back in a wattle and daub house, made of pole framework intertwined with rivercane and covered with mud, with a thatched roof. He propped himself on his elbows. There were no windows and there was a stone hearth in the center of the room, and in it, a dying fire. "Where am I?"

Pulling Artie into a sitting position, Jim explained, "You were bitten by a snake and the Choctaw medicine man took care of you, and of your wounds. They're almost gone. The leader of the Choctaws wants to see us." He put the bundle of clothes on Artie's lap. "New clothes for you."

Frowning, puzzled, Artie asked, "What happened to my clothes?" He unfolded a breechcloth and sighed. "Why am I always ending up in my underwear or naked and wearing a breechcloth when we meet Indians?" he finally noticed a white stone tied tightly against his calf. "What's that?"

Jim smiled. "I don't know. About your clothes, Eagle Eyed Warrior, the war chief of the Choctaws had to cut open your boots and pants to find the snakebite, and your shirt was ruined with blood – your wounds had reopened after paddling too long. As for that stone, it was black first. The medicine man placed it on the snakebite to absorb the venom and it turned white because it's done."

Rubbing his stubbled chin Artie looked outside, through the door of woven reeds. Rain was pouring down, outside.

Frogs were giving a concert in the distance.

Jim stood and helped the older man to stand too. "Don't be surprised if the Choctaw call you White Comanche or Strong Bear. They were fascinated by your tattoo and I had to tell them what happened with the eagle and the Comanche. They now have the upmost respect for you, and for me, because I'm your friend. This will greatly facilitate discussions."

WWW

 _Later, in the meeting house_

Hatak hopoksia yukpa shook his white-haired head. "No." He just said and all the other members of the council said 'no' in their turn.

Not losing hope, Jim insisted. "It's an archeological expedition, Wise Man Who Is Cheerful nodded. Those people won't invade your lands. They just want to find that ship, take it's cargo and leave, that's all."

Wise Man Who Is Cheerful nodded. "I understand, you're telling the truth, I know. Only an honest man wears blue clothes; the blue color is as a symbol of truth. But that land – where the big black boat is – is roamed by Naluso Falaya – The "long black being".

Blinking twice in surprise Artie asked, "You know where the ship is?"

The leader of the Choctaw nodded. "Yes, all my people know where it is. But no one can go there, it is forbidden because of Naluso Falaya."

Wise Man Who Is Cheerful nodded explained, "Naluso Falaya is an evil being. It looks like a man, but has small eyes, long pointed ears and doesn't walk, but moves quickly, sliding like a snake. It eats people it meets in the forest. No one goes there. It's too dangerous."

Wise Man Who Is Cheerful nodded nodded again. "Naluso Falaya eats anyone, men, women, children, Choctaws and white people too. It makes no difference. It will eat anyone going there."

Disappointed Jim nodded. "So it's a definite no?" and saw the old leader of the Choctaw nod. "Alright, I understand and I accept your decision." 'The President's not going to like that,' he thought. 'And the French even less.'

His curiosity piqued, Artemus said, "I'm not Choctaw and in a sense, I'm not a white man anymore as I'm an adoptive Comanche… so I can go there, if I want to."

Wise Man Who Is Cheerful nodded frowned and looked at the other old men composing the council. They nodded. Then, the leader looked at Artie. "You can go, but you will be killed." He pointed at Jim. "You can go, he can't. He's a white man. It's forbidden."

Looking up at Nakni lmanukfila tunshpa, Artie asked the war chief, "Give me your knife, please" and the Choctaw warrior complied immediately. Smiling, he placed a hand on Jim's shoulder and said, "James, my boy, today is a big day. You're going to become my blood brother – and by extension an adoptive Comanche at the same time, but without the ceremony going with it." Then he placed the edge of the knife against his palm and cut it. "I always considered you like my surrogate brother, with this; we'll be closer to real bothers." He beamed with tears in his eyes.

Smiling, feeling tears welling to his eyes, Jim copied his best friend. "That's a wonderful idea, and I'm proud and honored to become your blood brother."

The two men pressed their bloodied hands together, interlacing their fingers, mixing their blood.

Artemus was the first to cry, and hurriedly wiped his tears. He leaned toward Jim and their foreheads met. "You're now my blood-brother."

Jim smiled. "Does it give me the right to have a Comanche name?"

Glancing at his bleeding palm Artie shook his head. "No, only a Comanche can give you a Comanche name. I can't. I'm just an adoptive Comanche." He smiled at Jim. "But it gives you the right to accompany me. Let's take a look at this ship."

WWW

 _Much later, deep in the bayou_

The place was dark. The tall trees allowed only a few rays of light through their dense foliage. The murky green river was covered with decaying leaves and slimy algae.

The two men sitting in a Choctaw dugout canoe paddled slowly, looking around them, on their guard, frogs, toads croaking all around them.

It was still raining, but it has died down to a drizzle and warm humidity weighted the air.

Pushing a floating dead branch away from the boat with his paddle, Artemus asked, "Do you believe in that evil creature, Jim?"

Fighting against a squadron of blood-thirsty mosquitoes Jim said, "No, I don't believe in ghosts and other creatures like that. You?"

Artie shrugged. "I don't know, I never met a ghost till now. I will after that. But Indian legends, like all legends have a part of truth…" He smiled and added, "I've just found a nice and appropriate Comanche name for you, an unofficial one, of course, " Tenahpu ebibitu."

Jim frowned. "What?"

Still paddling in the black stream Artie chuckled. "It means 'Blue man' in Comanche, because you love wearing blue clothes."

Jim smiled. "I like it. Thank you."

The place was almost dark now, the canopy overhead so thick that the sun couldn't penetrate – and they noticed too that there was no sound, no animals. Even the mosquitoes were gone.

Glancing around him in worry, Artie whispered, "I don't like that…" and he accelerated the paddling, Jim copying him.

Smiling mockingly Jim said, "Don't worry. It's nothing. That creature doesn't exist. It's not going to attack us and kill us."

Glancing around him again, Artemus said, "It's the bayous, Jim. You never what's lurking in the murky waters or on the darkened banks…"

Jim smirked. "Scared buddy?" For response, Artie huffed and accelerated his paddling even more, and they moved fast.

WWW

They finally entered a lagoon closed in by a sandbank consisting of mixed sand and gravel and lines of trees, well-hidden from the Mississippi River. The lost ship was there, grounded on rocks, erect in a big pond of shallow green brackish water. The frigate masts were broken, except the main mast colonized by Spanish moss, dangling against remnants of her square-rigged sails. Her upper deck was filled with holes (clearly made by cannonballs following a battle) and her figure-head, a siren, was now half immersed in front of the bow. He hull bellow the upper deck was intact. The anchor had not been dropped, the frigate was just washed up on shore, silted up there.

Eyes wide open in excitement, Artie paddled at top speed to reach the old frigate, or what was left of her. "That's great!" he said, and repeated it twice.

Looking around him, still on his guard, Jim was less enthusiastic. Unlike Artie he hadn't forgotten a evil creature probably lurking in the vicinity.

Suddenly a clap of thunder made the two men jump. Ominous, thick, dark, blue-black clouds were gathering in the sky and the wind began to blow.

Moving the dugout-canoe close to the port side of the ship, Artie found a rope dangling down there, from the railing, and tied the boat to it. "Let's go inside, Jim. A tempest is coming." Then he used the rope to climb along the hull, reaching a hole large enough for them to go through.

Jim hesitated. "The whole ship is rotten, eaten away by the humidity, it's not prudent Artie. That deck could collapse under our weight, you know?"

Moving inside the gun deck of the old ship, Artie said, "We need to take cover, and I prefer to be inside, that outside, come inside!"

Shortly after, Jim was standing beside his partner. Everything was wet, sticky, moss-covered, decomposing. Despite the numerous holes everywhere, the air was stale.

"It's the gun deck," Artie said.

Jim frowned. "The gun deck? Where are the cannons?"

Artemus smiled, "On the upper deck, the gun deck bore no guns at all."

The two men looked around them – as a series of flashes of lightning lit the place, revealing dozens of skeletons lying on the deck.

They still had bits of clothes clinging to their bones and they still held weapons, or what was left of them, pieces of rusty metal.

Cringing, Jim said, "You chose us a nice and comfy place for the night, Artie. Next time, let me chose our camping site, I have better taste." And he watched Artemus head toward the skeletons – in full explorer mode. "Be prudent, Artie."

Fascinated, in full archaeologist mode now Artemus observed the skeletons and, a few minutes later, declared, "From the position of the skeletons I can say they killed each other, confirming the mutiny. I'm sure that we'll find other skeletons tomorrow, while exploring the ship." He stumbled as he ship was moving, storm-tossed. "Let's forget them and settle somewhere… there against the hull."

Outside the storm was getting worse.

The old ship was battered with the howling wind, cracking, squealing in protest, and the heavy rain was pelleting against its already soaked wood structure. Waves slapped against the hull, sending frothy spray all around the frigate.

Rain was cascading inside the hole-riddled decks, here and there.

Once his bedroll was in place, Jim dropped his backpack on the mossy deck and opened it. He pulled out a lantern and a matchbox.

Soon the ruined deck was lit with a small yellow glow. "There… now let's try to get some sleep, we have a lot of things to do tomorrow."

Unrolling his own bedroll beside Jim, Artie said, "You will sleep, not me… this place is… hair-raising. I'm going to stay awake."

He leant against the hull, his gun on his lap. Jim laid down on his bedroll and crossed his hands on his chest, relaxed. "Good night, Artie."

WWW

 _Jim's nightmare:_

Once his bedroll was in place, Jim dropped his backpack on the mossy deck and opened it. He pulled out a lantern and a matchbox.

Soon the ruined gun (but gun-less) deck was lit with a small yellow glow. "There… now let's try to get some sleep, we have a lot of things to do tomorrow."

But a gust of wind hit them full-force and the flame vanished. "Damn!"

Lighting the lantern again, Artie noticed his partner's terrified face and turned around… finding himself face to face with… something.

The older man's first thought was a 'gorgon' when the creature showed a large mouth with long pointed fangs,

The tongue sticking out between them… he recoiled and un-holstered his gun, cocking the hammer. But the pointy-eared creature 'slid' in a flash into obscurity, with a low hiss.

Swallowing, his voice quivering slightly, Jim said, "I think that we have just met the Naluso Falaya… " and he pulled out his own gun from his holster.

Moving toward Jim, Artie nodded. "Yes, we did." And he started trembling with delayed fright. "Dear God! It was so close that I could smell its foul breath… " He was suddenly nauseous and leaning against the hull, he vomited at his feet.

Feeling a bit better, but still shocked, Artie, whispered, "That creature is like the mythological Gorgon, on several points, like the scaly skin, the fangs, the tongue sticking out between its fangs, the claws, something snake-like instead of legs…"

Looking around him, but seeing nothing in the obscurity, Jim said, "And it's here, somewhere… and we are its prey." Glancing outside by the breach in the hull he said, "Let's get out of here. I prefer to fight a storm that that thing…" He grabbed his backpack and looked outside, searching for the dugout-canoe attached to the frigate by a rope. The rope was still here, but the boat was gone, probably taken away by the violent waves. He was soaked in a few seconds. "Water's deep, but it's not too high from here…" He jumped.

Once in the water, Jim was immediately submerged by big waves, but managed to emerge and stay on the surface. Tossed to right and left, he looked up, watching Artie standing on the edge of the opening in the hull, ready to jump in the storm-tossed water… and froze in terror when he saw the creature grab Artie's arm and pull him into the darkness.

He heard two gunshots and a long scream of pain, of pure agony.

He swam, at top speed toward the ship and climbed inside in a matter of seconds. He un-holstered his gun, looking around him. "Artie!"

Heart pounding in his chest, he grabbed the lantern and moved straight ahead on the gun deck… and stopped as his right foot hit something.

He lowered the lantern and recognized Artie's gun, the golden engraved initials AG glittering… and noticed blood smearing the barrel. "Artie…"

He plunged into the bowels of the ship, following the blood trail ... and finally entered a room, finding the floor littered with scattered bones.

Hearing a moan, he lifted the lantern and gasped, wide-eyed, struck frozen in horror. Artie was hanging upside down, his ankles tied with a rope to a beam.

His bare-chest was covered in blood, blood gushing from the various wounds on his chest and neck, blood that and was running down his face and to the deck under him.

The creature was circling him, hissing like a serpent. It stopped when it saw Jim and pounced in his direction, undulating like a snake.

Keeping his cool, his face like marble, standing firmly on his feet, Jim fired four times. BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

The creature was unhurt, bullets sliding on its armored skin, but it was surprised and moved away, disappearing in the darkness.

Setting the lantern at his feet, Jim used a fifth bullet to cut the rope holding Artie suspended in the air and caught his partner, before laying him on the deck, sticky with his blood.

He knelt beside Artie and placed his hands on the wounds at his neck, applying pressure on the severed arteries but blood escaped between his fingers, coming out like fountains. "Hold on Artie…"he breathed, as tears slid down his cheeks.

He did that automatically, because he knew that it was too late for Artie. He was going to die, in a few seconds, of massive blood loss.

He moved one hand to press Artie's limp hand in his tightly, and moved the other one to his blood-brother's face, to run the tips of his fingers across his cheek. "Don't die…"

Eyes fluttering open, barely conscious but still very lucid, Artie coughed blood and whispered, his breathing ragged, "Dying….Go 'way… will kill you too… 'Bye Jim…love you, bro…" He closed his eyes and gave one final breath before shuddering and lying still.

The creature came back – pouncing at him again. This time he knew it would kill him. He took a deep breath and thought, 'this is it,' and said, "Wait for me buddy, I'm right behind you," and placed the mouth of his gun against his temple. The last bullet was for him.

He pulled the trigger.

BANG!

The world faded to darkness.

WWW

 _Reality:_

Thrashing on his bedroll Jim woke abruptly, groaning. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around him, frightened.

Horrible images of his nightmare still imprinted in his mind, he recoiled against the black decomposing wood of the hull of the frigate, gasping for breath.

Regaining control of himself, he buried his face in his hands. "What an awful dream," he said, and then he glanced around him. Artemus wasn't there. He blanched. "Artie!"

He stood - finally noticing that, one: the storm was gone and two: that it was dawn and three: that the sky was clear with a rose-colored, promise of a beautiful day.

He looked through the large hole in the hull of the ship – and spotted his partner on the dugout-canoe, paddling a little further on the lagoon.

He waved his hand. "Hey! Artie!"

Moving the boat in the frigate's direction, Artemus paddled at top speed to join his partner. Once against the frigate he asked, "Hey Jim! Slept well?" Seeing his pallid face and his strained features he asked, "Are you okay Jim? You seem to have seen a ghost."

Smiling Jim nodded. "Yes, I'm fine… now. I had a very bad dream, that's all. It's over now. What are you doing in the canoe buddy?"

Pointing at the fish lying at the bottom of the canoe, Artemus said, "I was fishing. Eagle-Eyed Warrior gave me a fishing kit before we left. We need to eat, Jim. Come on board. I'm going to make a fire on the shore up there, among the trees, there's a nice beach."

Glancing around him, Jim couldn't help but shiver, thinking again about his nightmare, slowly fading, and then climbed into the dugout-canoe.

WWW

 _Later_

The two men spent hours searching the chest filled with gold coins, and finally found only one, big, but it didn't contain gold bars but instead gems and pearls and jewelry by the hundreds, rings, necklaces, bracelets, tiaras... all worth several million dollars.

Taking a sapphire almost as big as his fist, Jim said, "It looks like a pirate's treasure… Did you read something about that frigate being a pirate ship, Artie?"

Taking a crown with gold and rubies, Artie shook his head. "No, it is not mentioned anywhere. Of course, those sailors didn't mention it on their reports, or they would have been hanged for piracy. As privateers they were protected by the French authorities, pirates weren't. You know, I think that the _Invincible_ was a privateer ship, before becoming a pirate ship. If I remember correctly, in August 18, 1796 was signed the Treaty of San Ildefonso between Spain and France. Both States committed to their defense and mutual attack against England, which at that time threatened the Spanish fleet during its voyages to America. From that date Santiago de Cuba would become a French privateer base... but after that, a few privateers chose not to follow the instructions of the French authorities and they became pirates. It was more lucrative… I think the _invincible_ encountered an English ship or a French privateer and they, fought. She was badly damaged and, fleeing a hurricane, she came here… the sailors didn't mention the invincible fought another ship, but that she was badly damaged during a hurricane. But the mutiny really happened though." He put the crown on his head and asked, "How do I look? Kneel, peasant, before your king…"

Jim chuckled. "You look ridiculous. Let me remind you that you're wearing a breechcloth. It's not a decent outfit for a king."

Placing the heavy crown back on the chest, Artie said, "We have to go back to New Orleans and tell everything to the President. He won't authorize that archaeological expedition because the Choctaws don't want anyone here, on their lands, and because this treasure here will be the source of international political problems… Let's go back to the Choctaws' village."

It had started to rain hard outside, the wind started to blow and the thunder growled in the distance, signaling an oncoming threat: a new storm.

Once in the dugout-canoe they looked up at the darkening gray sky lightning-streaked and Jim said, "Let's get out of here!"

Artie nodded in worry, noticing the speed of the clouds coming in their direction. "Yes, and we should hurry," he added, a bit anxious.

They headed back to the river, paddling at top speed. It was so dark when they reached the river that it was and hard to tell if it was morning or night.

But the new storm was quicker.

It forced them to turn back shortly after, trees falling all around them, unrooted by powerful wind gusts. It was too dangerous to continue.

They found refuge aboard the stranded pirate ship as the storm hit full force.

It was the deluge.

Tbc.


	5. Act Four

**THE NIGHT OF THE LOST PIRATE SHIP**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT FOUR**

The sky was dark. Thunder crashed and lightning lit up the massive and encroaching clouds every few seconds.

The Mississippi River was rough, rising rapidly, running high.

The sand bank closing the lagoon had disappeared under furious waves; trees have been unrooted and taken away by the whirling brackish water.

The lagoon, like this part of the Louisiana. was battered by violent winds, howling, whistling in the trees, barely resisting the assaults of the huge storm.

Inside the French ship Jim and Artie had found refuge in the lower deck, sheltered from the scattering rain and the strong winds, sitting on each side of the lantern.

The waves were crashing against the hull – rolling all around the frigate, beneath the frigate, moving the sand, digging into the sand.

Imperceptibly The _Invincible_ was moving.

Things cracked and snapped, in the darkness on the ship, the yellowed and torn sails of the main mast flapped in the wind outside and shrouds snapped… and the two men weren't reassured. The old frigate could crumble on top of their heads anytime. They were silent, attentive to the slightest noise, trying to decode it, to anticipate what could happen, standing ready to do what would be needed.

Nothing happened – at least inside the ship.

Because outside the sandbank had vanished under the flood and the waves had hollowed a large and deep channel, and the trees were gone. The hurricane had refloated the _Invincible_ , which was now heading, slowly, toward the Mississippi River.

Feeling the ship move with the roll, the two agents finally registered that something was wrong: stranded ships didn't move with the roll.

Once on the upper deck they froze in stupefaction. The _Invincible_ wasn't in the lagoon anymore but floating more or less on a vast floodplain.

WWW

Lightning was almost constantly flashing in the almost black sky and cold heavy rain slammed into the two men soaking them completely and almost immediately.

Reacting immediately, as a former sailor, Artemus headed toward the ship's wheel to enable him to direct the vessel's course, dodging debris coming from the disintegrating main mast and slaloming between skeletal remains, littering the surface of the upper deck.

The wind was so violent that he had to duck his head, barely able to walk straight. He was to overturned by a gust, and incapable of getting up, he had to progress on his knees, crawl up to the stern of the ship. When he reached it, the ship's wheel wasn't there anymore.

He cursed under his breath. The ship was uncontrollable.

Now in the middle of the large river, the ship began to list to her port side. The lower decks filled with water through openings into the keel.

Trying to stay calm, Jim asked Artie, "What are we going to do now?"

Completely lost, Artie shook his head. "I don't know, I don't… " He stopped. There was a strong, loud, tremendous roaring, hundreds of waves… "Oh dear God:"

Horrified, he opened his eyes wide and pointed a trembling hand at a giant wave of murky and foamy water sliding toward them, and it was higher than the upper deck.

Panicked now, Jim took a step back, his face tensed and ghastly, his whole body trembling. "We have to get out of here…"

Artemus simply said, "Too late, we're dead."

They didn't have time to react. The huge wave hit the bow of the frigate with full force, with a deafening crash and it literally exploded, debris flying everywhere.

The impact of tons of water on the ship was so violent that it sent the two men flying in the air and they landed hard, with a thud, on the deck, aching all over – as the water rushed closer.

Suddenly there was a loud crack and the main mast broke and fell.

Jim and Artemus immediately parted, barely avoiding being crushed, running on either side of the ship, as the mast plunged through the lower decks, almost breaking the ship in two parts.

Heavy shrouds pinned the two men to the flooded deck, knocking the breath out of them, while the huge wave was crushing the frigate, ripping things up, devouring her at top speed, submerging everything with ear-splitting noises.

Terrified they saw the dark gray wall of churning water crash down, sweeping over them. The force of the water ripped them apart. Jim and Artie were caught into the stormy waters and the wild current dragged them both down underwater, debris of the ship bashing and scratching them all over their bodies. They sank to the bottom of the unleashed Mississippi River, in the middle of pieces of the frigate, entangled in the shrouds, trapped like fish in a fishing net.

The _Invincible_ ceased to exist – at least in one piece.

The water swallowed all.

WWW

 _Much later_

Hours.

His whole body battered and aching, Jim had spent hours - all night long actually – sitting on the branch of a tree, cold and shivering waiting for the flood to recede, hoping that Artie was safe, somewhere.

He knew Artie was still alive – in his heart – but knowing his partner was a magnet for trouble, he was dreading finding him injured.

But the flood didn't recede, and in the morning, murkish water was everywhere.

The tallest trees were half immersed and all land had vanished, submerged. That part of the Louisiana was now a gigantic lake. The Mississippi, powered by the furious waters of the Gulf of Mexico, had flooded most of the bayous and marshes.

He hoped the Choctaws had had time to take shelter.

Speaking of Choctaws, Jim smiled when he saw a group of a dozen Indians heading in his direction, sitting in dugout-canoes.

He stood on the branch and waved his hands! "Hey! Hey! Help!" and smiled again when the Choctaws waved their hands back. They had seen him.

He was overjoyed and immensely relieved to see that Artemus, he, (had taken for an Indian like them because he was wearing a breechcloth), had been rescued first. He was sitting in the middle of a dugout-canoe steered by Nakni lmanukfila tunshpa. "Artie!" he beamed.

Grinning, the two men hugged for a minute, Jim feeling Artemus's gooseflesh on his exposed skin, happy to be together again. "It's good to see you again, Jim," Artie said, parting from his partner. "I knew that you were not dead."

"I knew that you weren't dead either Artie," Jim replied, as he surveyed his best friend's body. He too was badly bruised and scratched all over. His nearly-naked body was still wet, he was shivering convulsively. He frowned and before he could ask Artie if he had spent the night in the water…

His teeth chattering, Artie said, "See that you spent the night… out of the water… not me. Floated gripping a piece of the Invincible all night… got stuck in the middle of… of river against a trunk planted in an underwater sand bank… it was the longest and most terrifying night of my whole life… alligators everywhere… had to fight three of them… with a big branch… "

Eagle-Eyed Warrior nodded, still impressed. "He was hitting one with that big branch when we found him, floating in the middle of the flood."

Jim frowned as he noticed that Artemus looked sick. "You okay Artie? You look kind of green."

The older man nodded, "I know, I have swallowed a bit too much of muddy water at the bottom of the river trying to free myself of the shroud… I'm nauseous."

He suddenly leant over the edge of the boat and vomited.

Eagle-Eyed Warrior nodded. "Nakishwana okchvko will give you a potion to heal your stomach pains," he said before accelerating his paddling.

Big, dark clouds grouped at the horizon.

WWW

 _Later_

The Choctaws had lost everything – but everyone was safe, animals included.

They had hastily built big floating platforms between the treetops, with unrooted trees and broken branches, tied together with strings of plant fibers, and they had managed to build makeshift cone-shaped tents (brush shelters) made of a simple wooden frame covered with materials that were readily available in the location like branches, rushes and reeds and leaves.

Dozens of dugout-canoes were tied to the floating village.

Nakishwana okchvko led a very sick Artemus, under the small brush shelter he shared with his wife and sons, and two other families, all of them cramped inside. Jim followed.

Soon after it started raining, but to everyone's relief, it was just a normal shower. The hurricane was fortunately gone.

Horribly pale, rolled in a trembling ball on a layer of leaves, Artie groaned, "'m sick…s'wallowed half of the 'iver… and maybe some 'ishes too. oh boy!"

Sitting cross-legged close to Artemus, Jim patted his best friend's shoulder in a comforting gesture, "Yes, but at least you're not injured. Just sick. It will pass."

Pressing his hands against his rumbling stomach, churning and cramping non-stop, Artie shot his best glare at Jim. "Just 'ick? I'm g'ing to die… Ooooh…"

Jim started running wide soothing circles on Artie's back. "Choctaw medicines are going to work miracles on you, buddy, you'll see."

Blue Catfish shook his head. "Yes, and you won't die. Fortunately, before the big waters arrived and destroyed everything, I had time to put all my medicine in a dugout-canoe." He placed a hand on his patient's forehead. It was radiating heat under his fingertips. He added, "I'm going to give you an infusion of cinnamon tea it will heal your upset stomach."

Eyes closed, Artie nodded. "Cinnamon tea… yes, I know. My father prepared that too… used for for upset stomach and nausea, indigestion and gas… gas? Oh god!"

The alikchi nodded, "Yes, and something for the diarrhea, too. You have stomach flu." He said then opened one of his pots stocked in the small hut.

Feeling tired and looking downright miserable Artemus whimpered. "Kil-ki-kill me-me now", he stuttered, his teeth chattering as violent shivers wracked his body. "Bo-boy!"

He vomited.

WWW

 _Much later_

 _Under the brush shelter_

It was the end of the afternoon when Artemus woke out of his short-no long nap. The makeshift shelter was lit and warmed by a small fire nestled in the middle of stones.

He smiled, finding the medicine man's sons aged five or six, sitting cross-legged on each side of him. "Hello, my name is Artemus." He glanced around him and noticed that except the three of them, the place was empty. "Where are the others?"

Hesitating for a second, the younger boy then touched Artie's arm, from the fold of his arm to his wrist. He frowned, puzzled, and asked, "My name is Shikoba okchakvlbi, Purple Feather, and this is my brother Hushi humma, Red Bird. Our father told us that you are a Comanche warrior from the far away plains. Why are you painted in white? For battle?"

Artie chuckled. The Choctaws lived in isolation and most of them had never seen a white man. "No, I'm not painted in white, it's my skin color. I'm a white man."

The two brothers exchanged a look of stupefaction, then jumped to their feet and left the 'tent' barely avoiding Jim entering the brush shelter.

He was holding a colored rivercane basket filled with grilled pieces of fish. "I thought that all the children loved you, buddy…"

Pulling himself into a sitting position, Artie nodded. "They do. I just told the boys I was a white man. They thought I had painted myself in white for battle. "He let out a short laugh. "They're probably telling this to their friends right now." he rubbed his gurgling stomach and winced.

He took the basket and sniffed at the grilled fish. He wrinkled his nose and paled in revulsion and his stomach growled a loud 'no'. "I'm still a bit nauseous… Thank you, Jim. But I'll pass." Feeling bile rising in his throat, he lay down. "Still very nauseous," he corrected. His eyelids drooped heavily, his head pounding again. "Boy! I hate to be sick…" He curled up in fetus position on the scratchy floor, clinging onto his abdomen, assaulted by terrible cramps, and drifted off into a deep slumber.

Sitting cross-legged beside his sleeping friend, Jim brought a piece of grilled fish to his mouth, watching outside the low dark clouds hanging deep over the treetops, and the rain cascading down heavily, hitting the surface of the flood.

WWW

 _Later_

Blue Catfish placed a hand on Artie's clammy forehead and then pressed two fingers against his throat. "Hmm," his fever's gone down a little," he commented.

Kneeling beside his companion, lying on his back, holding his sweaty hand, Jim asked frowning in alarm "Is my friend going to be alright?"

The medicine man nodded. "He hasn't thrown up for about two hours now, which is good, the potions I gave him are chasing away the stomach pains."

Grimacing in pain, his stomach rumbling, his whole body aching, Artie groaned, "You sure? B'cause I'm not feelin' well," he said through clenched teeth.

Nakishwana okchvko placed his hands flat on Artemus abdomen and began massaging it, while chanting prayers, eyes closed.

Grunting, Artie gripped Jim's arm as the pain flared at full force. "Oh God! I'm going to die," he whimpered, panting, cheeks flushing red.

Patting his partner's shoulder reassuringly, Jim said, "You survived the war, Artie, it's not a stomach ache that will kill you."

Blue Catfish stopped his massage and chanting altogether. "I will prepare another potion for you, you're sick because you drank the tainted water of the River, but you should have a low grade fever; and you're burning up. I think that you caught a cold, too, spending all night in the cold water .It won't be long," he said. "But I need some ingredients, I don't have. You need to drink too, or you're going to be dehydrated. I'll send someone to bring you a pot of boiled water."

He left the brush shelter.

Artemus sneezed and immediately rolled himself in a tight ball, eyes tight shut, and horrible abdominal cramps cutting him in two.

Not knowing how to help his very sick companion, Jim started rubbing circles on Artemus's abdomen, feeling his belly tremble beneath his fingertips. "You're going to be okay, Artie."

The older man grunted and moved onto his knees in a flash. "I need to… oh God!" He burped, brought a hand up to cover his mouth and rushed out of the makeshift tent.

WWW

 _Three days later, at dawn_

Still a bit sick in his stomach, with a headache and a running nose, but his nausea and diarrhea gone, Artie smiled when Wise Man Who Is Cheerful nodded, placed a colored head band around his head and said, "Yakoke, thank you."

The very old man smiled in his turn, "Thank you for your visit. You honored the Choctaw, Strong Bear of the Comanche people. Shilup Chitoh Osh, the Great Spirit, will protect you."

The two men shook hands, warmly.

Then Artemus took place in the dugout the chief of the Choctaws had given them to go back 'to the whites'. Jim was waiting for him inside, sitting in the back, paddling in the water, ready to go. He looked up at the leader of the Choctaws and said, "I'll come back one day, it's a promise."

Hatak hopoksia yukpa nodded. "You will always be welcome, Strong Bear."

Plunging his paddle in the water, Artie bowed his head and said, "Let's go back home Jim… Let's hope New Orleans is still intact."

Paddling away from the floating village, Jim said, "Well, I'm sure that you could transform the Wanderer into a submarine."

Frowning Artie said, "I hope the President is all right." It started to rain again, water rolling down on his deerskin, poncho-style cape.

WWW

 _Much later, at dusk_

The two men stopped for the nite beside a tall tree, the heart of which had been covered with branches by the flood. The water was now back down, but was still high.

They setlled there for the night, atop the tree, on entwined and sturdy branches.

Leaning against his side of the pile of small branches, twigs and leaves, Artie winced as he felt twigs poke his healing shoulders. Then he smiled and said, "It's the first time I'm going to sleep in a nest… "

Smiling too, Jim replied, "Well, you're the one to have an eagle tattooed on your back Artie… But it's a first, you're right."

Hearing small clacking sounds, they both looked down and saw the eyes of the alligators gleaming in the dim light; the reptiles were roaming around the half submerged tree.

Gripping instinctively a big branch to stabilize himself, Jim smiled and said, "it would be better not falling from the nest tonight Artie..."

Leaning against a big branch, Artemus said, "You know Jim, I built several treehouses when I was a boy, in the forest behind my parent's house."

Copying his best friend, Jim nodded. "You and your buddies met there and you were playing cards and talking about girls, right?"

Artie chuckled. "We didn't play cards, our parents forbid it, but we talked about girls, and we played too. We played lawmen and bandits and cowboys and Indians… Now that I think about it, I always ended up as the Indian war chief… Mmm. Do you think it was some kind of sign?"

Jim shrugged. "I don't know. But it's possible. You're Strong Bear, the White Comanche. Maybe one day you'll become a 'true' Indian, I mean at least to members of a band, after mixing your blood with one of them, becoming his blood brother… Who knows?"

Looking down at the alligators circling around the tree, Artie nodded. "Yes, who knows? I'd like that." He looked at the faded cut in his right hand and said, "I already have one blood-brother, he's sitting in front of me…" He reached out, a warm smile on his face and Jim took his hand in his, lacing his fingers into his. He sniffled, his eyes already filling with tears. "I regret that the 'ceremony' was a bit rapid, but we were a bit rushed… We'll celebrate it on your return with a dinner in the best restaurant in New Orleans and, later, in the Wanderer, with bottles – plural - of the best Champagne I can find, I'm buying." He unlaced his fingers from Jim's and pressed his blood-brother's shoulder, "Brother."

Copying Artie, Jim grinned. "Thanks, Artie, thanks, brother."

They saw a falling star streak across the night sky and Artie said, "I make a wish: you and I, together, till we both decide to retire."

Jim smiled and added, "And beyond, forever together."

Both silent they watched the sun disappear behind a line of trees. Soon after crickets, frogs and toads began their concerts.

Owls entered the chorus, somewhere off in the distance.

WWW

 _The next evening_

Downstream of the Mississippi, the two men were surprised, then relieved, to find the bayous intact, as the massive flood hadn't reached that part of the River. They could settle for the night on an island with a bonfire instead of spending the night sitting in a tree in the damp cold. After the hurricane, the temperature had dropped dramatically.

They settled down on a small bushy island for the night, near a lone cypress and a group of rocks to be protected from the wind and the alligators.

As they had lost their backpacks in the wreckage of the _Invincible_ , Artemus tried to make fire using the oldest method of fire lighting, by friction, a primitive hand drill technique with two pieces of wood, but the wood was humid as well as the very fine fibers he had collected beforehand. So it was impossible to obtain a hot, glowing ember. Then, he remembered that he had a knife in his belt (a gift from the leader of the Choctaws) and using a flint he found on the ground, he used another primitive way to light a fire, by percussion. Hitting the flint against the iron blade of the knife, he managed to produce sparks that inflamed dried grass he found in a tiny cavity between two rocks – dry enough to burn.

Then, using a fishing spear that Eagle-Eyed Warrior had given to him, to fish on their way back, Artemus caught two big fish, he immediately prepared (Eagle-Eyed Warrior had given him a knife too). He cut off the heads and tails, skinned them and removed gills and internal organs and deboned them. He finally cut them into big pieces before making two fish skewers with two solid branches.

In the meantime Jim had collected some wood here and there to feed the fire but mostly, seated on a woven fibers mat – another gift from Nakni lmanukfila tunshpa, he had admired his best friend's skills and applauded his successes.

Fish eaten, the two men lay down on their mat, lying side by side beside the big fire and looked at the millions of stars twinkle in the night sky overhead.

Pointing at the sky randomly, through the old cypress treetop, Jim asked, "I don't know anything about stars and constellations… but I'm sure you do. What's the name of that one, there?"

No reply.

He turned his head to the side and smiled. Artemus was sleeping heavily, palms turned outward, mouth half opened, head thrown back, totally relaxed. "Good night, Artie."

WWW

The next evening, they met a fishing boat heading back to New Orleans on the River and the captain accepted them on board along with the Choctaw dugout canoe.

They disembarked at dawn.

WWW

 _The next morning in the Wanderer_

Marmalade jumped onto the table with feline grace, agility, and fluidity, and, tail wagging in curiosity, she sniffed at the bubbly herbal soap that Artemus had just settled there, beside the bathtub.

She let out a disgruntled meow when her owner ran a hand over her back with a dripping, soapy, hand, wetting her soft fur and she immediately started to clean herself.

Chuckling, Artemus asked, "Missed me Marmie? Did the driver and the fireman take good care of you when I was gone?"

Busily licking her orange and white fur clean, the cat remained silent.

Smiling, Artie grabbed the bottle of peppermint shampoo (a recent invention of his – he loved peppermint) and stopped mid-action when he heard Jim knock at the door. "Come in Jim!" Then he lathered his messy hair with the greenish shampoo, detangling the foamy curls. Seeing Jim enter the bathroom, holding a cup of steaming coffee, he asked, "That's for me? Thanks – I just can't get enough coffee, of my coffee, of course," he said, with a smirk, his eyes twinkling.

A smile on his lips, Jim pulled a stool beside the bathtub, where his partner was lounging in hot water, for half an hour now, and narrowed his eyes, falsely offended. "I'm not sure that you deserve it…" and he took a sip, earning an upset frown from his partner.

Reaching forward a soapy hand, Artie grabbed the cup and swallowed the hot, divine beverage in two big gulps, before handing the empty cup to his companion "Thanks." Then he re-started scrubbing his head, in smooth strokes, gently working up a good lather, sending bubbles flying everywhere.

Marmie pawed the bubbles, trying to catch them. But she couldn't as they popped all around her. She meowed in frustration. "Mreoww."

But the cat purred when Jim stroked its head between its ears and, purring again, louder, it pressed its face against the heel of Jim's hand.

Pouring bath water from a pitcher, Artie rinsed his hair, four times, and playfully snorted, his head like a water-logged dog, sending drops on the cat – on purpose.

Marmalade didn't find that funny because cats didn't like getting wet. She had had enough. She jumped to the floor and padded toward the door, heading back toward the lab and her basket.

Giggling softly, like a child after a good prank, Artemus grabbed the bath towel, folded on the edge of the bathtub and asked, "She's a good girl, and she'll forgive me. Did you read my report, Jim?" Then he began drying his curled hair. "I hope it's not too muddled as writing it was the first thing I did this morning – after preparing a pot of fresh coffee. Things were still clear in my head."

Jim nodded. "Yes, I did. It's perfect, as usual, clear, precise, both detailed and concise. But the President won't like what's inside. He won't authorize the French archaeological expedition and the French won't be pleased, their President first."

Standing, Artie shook his head, his hair sticking out every which way. "No, he won't." He left the bathtub, and then he started toweling his body dry. "I'm going to run a bath for you."

Running a hand through his greasy and disheveled hair. Jim stood,. then he took off what was left of his blue jacket. It was very dirty, torn, buttons were missing and the bottom was in tatters. "Thank you, buddy, but I'm going to take a shower. Can you prepare breakfast?"

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Artie yawned. "Yes, just for you, because I'm not hungry. My stomach still hurts a little and the cold 's still here. I'll do it, and then I'll crawl into my bed and sleep for a week."

Jim shook his head and cringed. "Sorry Artie, but the President had sent one of his aides here when you were taking your bath. He wants to see you in one hour."

He frowned, very worried. His partner looked worn out and haggard, pale with dark bags under his eyes, as if all the fatigue accumulated these last days had suddenly dropped on his shoulders.

This last assignment has taken too much out of him.

Placing a hand on Artie's arm, Jim said, "I'm going to prepare something for myself, don't worry, and I promise not to burn down the galley. You have time to take a nap, buddy. I'll wake you, ten minutes before we leave, so you can shave."

Artie nodded. "Good idea, see you later," he said, his voice toneless. Then he headed toward the door, shoulders hunched, almost lethargic.

He sneezed.

Suddenly thunder erupted from the darkening sky outside.

WWW

 _Later in the morning_

 _In the President's train_

President Ulysses S. Grant closed the report that Artemus Gordon had written, detailing with his usual scientific precision what had happened.

There was a new crash of thunder and the downpour fell louder and harder, torrential sheets of rain pelting against the roof of the parlor car.

Grant looked up at the older agent almost standing at attention in front of his desk. His partner was copying him at his side.

The two men's faces were covered in bruises and scratches. He supposed that the rest of their bodies were like that too.

He nodded in appreciation. "Reading one of your mission reports is, each time, like reading an adventure novel, gentlemen, that tells a multiplication of extraordinary and violent adventures… and this time you came back intact. I prefer this, I tell you."

Jim smiled. "I prefer this too, Mr. President." He glanced at Artie who was closing his eyes, exhausted, and elbowed him in his side.

His vision blurring around the edges, Artie couldn't help but yawn.

Grant fished around in the pockets of his jacket (loaded with two dozen cigars, a day's supply, like during the war), taking out a long, thick, cigar and a small pocket knife and said, "Fortunately, the hurricane did no damage here. It died just before reaching the city." He looked up at an exhausted Artemus. "You look dead on your feet, Artemus. You need to rest, son."

Bone weary, Artie nodded, "Yes Sir," then he rubbed his eyes and blinked several times for his eyes to focus up. "The last few days were a bit grueling."

Grant pulled out a matchbox from the pocket of his black waistcoat. "I mean you need to rest, _now_." He pointed at the closest golden upholstered couch. He frowned reading a 'but' in the other man's lips. "You're going to sleep here, Artemus, and it's an order."

Swaying slightly, his brain running out of energy, Artie saluted, reacting automatically to his former general's commanding tone. "Yes, General, Sir." He frowned realizing something. "But the Wanderer is on the station yard too, a cable's length from your train and I can…"

President Grant clipped the end of the cigar off and frowned. "You heard me. Please don't make me repeat myself. I know you Artemus Gordon. Instead of going to sleep, you will end up in your lab building something like a new explosive… so it's here and nowhere else. I sometimes take a nap on that couch, it's comfortable, you'll see."

Lowering his head in defeat, Artie nodded, "Yes Sir." He sighed. He was feeling so weak… He sneezed and pulled out his handkerchief from his inside jacket pocket.

His vision suddenly flared white.

His weak knees buckled.

Artemus moaned in distress and fell to the carpeted floor like a stone.

Paling in alarm, Jim cried out, "Artie! He tugged his half-limp partner to his feet, putting his arm around his shoulders and walked him slowly to the closest couch. "It's okay buddy, we're almost there. You're going to sleep here."

His head pounding, Artemus groaned and cupped his face in his hands. "I'm so tired…" he slurred with a running nose.

He closed his eyes and was asleep, soundly, half a second later.

Grant took the coverlet folded on a chair and tucked it around Artie. "I was sure this would happen after such predicaments... Artemus is very strong, very tough, but the body has its limits, and it has crossed them and this is the result…" He pulled on a cord, activating a bell in the next compartment.

The swinging door opened and a man appeared a few seconds later, "Yes Mr. President?"

Grant looked down at Artemus, noticing that Jim held his best friend's hand, very worried. "Hopkins, tell Dr. Henderson to come here with his black bag."

The man nodded. "Yes Sir."

Tbc.


	6. Tag

**THE NIGHT OF THE LOST PIRATE SHIP**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **TAG**

 _New Orleans, the next morning_

It was pouring down from the dark gray sky, again.

His eyes half-opened, Artemus was lying on his bunk, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the ceiling, lazily stroking Marmalade's fur.

The cat was sprawled on his lap, tail moving slowly, purring loudly.

He was dozing off and on since he had woken up in his bunk, lulled by the steady staccato of the rain battering heavily on the window and by the cat's deep thrumming.

It was peaceful, relaxing.

Exhaustion had taken its toll. Dr. Henderson had ordered him to stay in his compartment and in his bed until they returned to the Capital. The President had seconded that, and added a two day complete medical examination at the Washington Military Hospital, Jim would take care of him in the meantime. He was far fatigued too much to disobey, he thought, with a weak smile.

He opened his eyes, when he heard a knock at the door, scratching behind the cat's ears. Marmalade leaned in to the touch. "Yes, come in," he said, his voice flat, energy-less, unlike him. "Already here Jim? I thought the President would stay…"

But it wasn't Jim who entered the small room… but a goon holding a gun, preceding Miguelito Loveless. Marmie immediately hissed.

"… Longer at the Governor's house," Artemus finished.

Loveless's henchman put the mouth of his gun, hammer cocked, against Artie's ear before he could do anything, "Don't move!" he commanded.

Artemus complied. "Not moving."

Loveless pulled up a chair beside the bunk and looked at Marmie. "Lovely cat, Mr. Gordon." The cat flattened its ears and hissed threateningly at the diminutive man, with bared fangs, erect whiskers, her white and orange fur spiked, and her tail jerking aggressively. "And fiercely defending you…"

The goon suddenly pointed his gun at Marmalade and said, "Bang!"

Not impressed, the cat, its back arched, fur standing on end, stared, glared and growled at the man before swiping a paw at him revealing long, thin, sharp claws.

Worried for his cat, Artie commanded, "Marmalade, go, basket, now."

Marmie hissed a last time and spat, and then she smoothly leapt from her owner's lap and swiftly padded out the door, flickering her tail nervously.

Loveless was impressed. "I thought no one could train a cat… You will never stop amazing me with your multiple skills, Mr. Gordon."

His face like carved marble, Artemus asked, "What do you want, Loveless?"

Loveless smiled, "Isn't it obvious? Mr. West and you, of course." He frowned, upset. "I was hoping that Mr. West might be here too, but he's not. He's accompanying the President, at the Governor's house. So what I had planned for the two of you, beginning with a kidnapping, will have to wait." He glanced around him, noticing the open sketchbook on the table. He took it and went through the schematics rapidly. "It's a fascinating project! An outboard engine for small boats… but useless for me." He put the sketchbook back in place and said, observing the older agent, lying on his bed, in his navy pajamas "You're not in the best of shape, Mr. Gordon. You're pale, feverish and weak, you're talking through your nose – you have a cold." He smiled like a crocodile, or a local alligator. "Maybe I should kill you right now… now that I have you at my mercy, Mr. Gordon."

The goon moved his gun against Artemus's brow. "Just a bullet needed, here…" he said, his black eyes cold and cruel.

Still passive, Artie didn't flinch. But he sneezed.

Loveless chuckled. "Not so fast, Mr. Bradford. I said 'should', not 'shoot'… no, I'm not going to kill you, Mr. Gordon. I need you alive for my next plan… and this time, you won't escape from the jaws of death." He moved toward the door and stopped. "But I'm not finished with you, Mr. Gordon. Mr. West needs to have a surprise when he gets back."

WWW

 _Much later, at night_

The first thing Jim saw by entering the parlor car was his partner lying on the carpeted floor, gagged, his ankles and wrists tied up together.

Marmalade was sitting beside her owner, her tail flicking anxiously back and forth. Looking up at Jim she meowed loudly in distress and licked Artie's nose with affection to soothe him.

He froze on the spot. "Artemus!" then, in a flash he pulled out the knife he kept in a pocket on his vest, at the back of his neck.

He rapidly cut the tight ropes, removed Artie's gag and asked, "Are you okay Artie? What happened? Who did that to you?"

Artie reached out to ruffle Marmalade's furry pointy ears. "That's a good cat." He was breathing heavily. "I almost suffocated with my stuffy nose." He paused, taking long breath of air. Gradually, his ragged breathing settled and he smiled proudly. "You should have seen that, Jim. My Marmie turned into a leopard… no, more like a tiger, to protect me. If only she had been able to transform into a real tiger…" Glancing at the bloody scrapes covering his wrists Artie, winced and groaned in irritation. "Loveless! He came here this morning. He wanted to kidnap you and me, again, but you weren't here, so he left. But not before he tied me up and left me here. I spent the whole day lying on the floor, trying to free myself, in vain as you can see…" He frowned angrily. "What took you so long? I thought that you were meant to be here mid-afternoon, Jim."

Jim smiled. "Mrs. Farnsworth introduced me to Miss Deerly, she's a lovely red-haired young woman… We went outside, in the garden, and I lost track of time…" He placed a soothing hand on Artie's shoulder. "I'm sorry, but I thought you were safe Artie, lying on your bed, reading books, drawing schematics of a new invention, sleeping with Marmie… I should have activated the security systems of the Wanderer before leaving, to stop any intruder. Loveless and his goons would have been neutralized… and they would be behind bars now."

Massaging away the reddened ligature marks on his ankles Artie added, "It's not your fault, Jim. You couldn't know what was going to happen." He sighed. "Loveless is probably long gone with his men by now, it's useless trying to find them…" He struggled to stand, pins and needles in his legs, recovering from numbness, Jim helping him. "I can't feel my legs anymore… "

Feeling a bit guilty, Jim led a stumbling Artemus to the closest couch and went to the sideboard, where he poured a generous glass of whiskey and, moving back toward his companion, he handed him the tumbler. "Here, buddy, you have earned it," he said.

Closing numb fingers around the glass of whiskey, Artie frowned and said, "Thank you, James. I'm wondering what Loveless had planned for us…"

Jim took the first aid kit from the lower part of the sideboard. "We'll know soon enough, believe me, Artemus," and opened the box. "You're hurt…"

Smiling Artie said, "That's nothing, just some scrapes. I spent hours struggling to free myself of the ropes… and I have some bloody souvenirs. "His eyes lit and he smiled broadly. "You know, I'd prefer to have Camille and Miranda taken care of my injured wrists and ankles instead of nursemaid Jim West. They're more delicate than you are. No offense."

Jim smiled. "None taken. That's a very good idea! I'm going to fetch some clothes for you."

The end


End file.
